Waste of an Arrow
by frankielouwho
Summary: Lizzie is convinced that Daryl and Beth are meant to be, but Carl thinks she's crazy. Can two meddling kids get them together? Or will past demons and present danger keep them apart? "Seems like loving someone is as good as putting a curse on them." Season 4, Ep 1 AU. Lemons, violence, and lots of Dixon-like language.
1. Chapter 1

**Waste of an Arrow**

**Rating: MA**

**By: FrankieLouWho**

**Disclaimer: Do not own, do not profit.**

Chapter One

"They are _so_ meant to be." Lizzie Samuels' voice was a whisper, close to his ear, and Carl felt his cheeks flush before glancing at the girl. She was a year younger, and somehow so much dumber than him. He rolled his eyes before turning away and ignoring her. For a second - because Carol's "Storytime" thing? It was a total waste of time. It was for the babies of the group, the kids who were scared and weak, who couldn't lift a gun and shoot it if their lives depended on it. Carl _could_, and Carl _had_. It felt stupid sitting in the stuffy library while there were more important things to do, like picking the walkers off the fence or walking the perimeter, the comfortable weight of his pistol in his pants, Dad's old sheriff hat perched on his head. But they didn't do that anymore. Not since his father lost his mind, and Carl killed some kid...

He shook his head and turned to Lizzie, deciding whatever distraction she could provide might be worth it. Better than dwelling on the past, at least. "Who's meant to be?" he whispered. Lizzie smiled and nodded towards the doorway, where Daryl Dixon and Beth Greene were standing, talking. It looked completely normal to Carl - Beth had her hip jutted out, bouncing Judith to placate her. Blonde hair in a messy ponytail, tangle of golden blonde and brown. Jeans and boots and a loose tank-top, her typical outfit - but it must have been laundry day, because it wasn't stained and dirty yet. Daryl had his crossbow strapped across his chest, and his tan arms were grimy. Looked like he hadn't had a bath in a week; greasy brown hair, smudged up cheeks. His blue eyes never stopped their icy chill, though. The man was always a mess, rarely _not_ covered in guts and dirt and sweat and blood. He was a badass, like that.

"You're crazy," Carl said, shaking his head with a grin. He'd always kind of had a crush on Beth, mainly because she was a pretty girl and the closest to his age in the whole camp. She had been, before the Woodbury group had infiltrated their ranks and taken up residence in the prison. Now he had Storytime and Lizzie with her big brown eyes and giggles. She drove him insane - always lingering around, naming the walkers, being a brat. Now she was coming up with these outrageous ideas. Daryl was old enough to be Beth's daddy, and she was too sweet and gentle for a man like him... A man like Daryl was better suited to someone like Michonne, or even Carol, though she was a bit older than even Daryl...

"I've seen the way they look at each other," Lizzie said defensively, mouth puckering into a girlish pout. "I know what it looks like when people are in love, Grimes. And believe me, they are _totally_ head over heels."

Carl cast another glance to the two in the doorway. Beth's cheeks were pink, and she was grinning up at Daryl. His fingers were white-knuckled on the strap of his Horton, but his face was the same calm mask that they saw every day. The man wasn't a conversationalist, and seeing more than a fleeting grin on his face was rare. Beth said something, put a hand on his arm, and they both chuckled. _Huh._ Carl didn't know what to make of that.

"I think it's sweet," Lizzie gushed. She sighed, dreamily. "It's like Romeo and Juliet, Bella and Edward, or something. Like they're total opposites, but they have so much passion for each other that they overcome it..." She sounded like she was talking about characters in a book or on a TV show (or at least what Carl could remember of the shows his mother used to watch, _before_), not people that he had come to know and think of as _family_. It was kind of surreal.

"I still think you're crazy," Carl said, glaring at the younger girl, before standing up and ducking out of the library, ignoring the concerned look that Carol sent him as he left. He brushed by Daryl and Beth, who both seemed too wrapped up in their conversation to notice him. That was just fine - maybe he needed some time alone, to contemplate things. And _stuff_.

* * *

"Thanks again," Beth said, grinning up at Daryl. "I swear, I just needed like... ten minutes to myself. I was going a little crazy." His expression didn't change, but Beth sensed the softness behind his piercing blue eyes. When it came to his Lil Asskicker, he was a big softy, all mushy and ga-ga for the little girl. It was completely endearing, totally lovable, and Beth felt a rush of - loyalty? Affection? She wasn't really sure, but there was a warm sensation that swept over her, from head to toe, seeing him with that baby. He was so good with her, and it was no secret that Judith adored the rough older man. Any time he was near, she was stretching her arms out, clenching her chubby fists for him. He rarely could deny her.

"'S no problem," Daryl replied. His voice was deep and rough, and Beth felt a rumble in her chest. Something about him... It was weird. When she looked at Daryl Dixon, there was something so _manly_ about him, something that was just ridiculously attractive about his age and his demeanor, how he carried himself, how he behaved. He was a provider, a hunter, intense and aloof. He wasn't like Glenn, couldn't ramble on about nothing; his cool silence wasn't uncomfortable for Beth anymore. She almost preferred it.. "She's a little sweetheart, never mind having her around." Judith cooed in response, batting her long eyelashes up at him. "Little flirt."

"How are things on the battle front?" Beth asked, conversationally. She felt the urge to linger in his presence. Daryl sighed, shrugged, scratched the back of his neck - she deciphered it as, "I'm suspicious, but nothing much," which appeared to be his running state of conciousness. He was always worried, even with the governor long gone and their ranks growing more prepared by the day. There was comfort in numbers, and there were plenty of folks here that knew how to handle themselves. But Daryl was careful, mindful, and solely focused on taking care of his family as best he could.

"Rick doin' all right?" she pressed on. The corner of his mouth lifted, and Beth couldn't help but return his smile. "I'm glad. It's good to see him getting back into the swing of things... Feels like before, almost."

"Almost," Daryl echoed. Their eyes met for a brief moment, blue on blue, and Beth felt her cheeks turn pink. "Once I can get him 'way from them pigs, he'll be just fine." They chuckled, and Beth pressed her hand to his bicep. It was firm beneath her hand, and she felt him tense in surprise.

"You're doing a good thing, Daryl," she reminded him. It wasn't the first time they'd had this kind of conversation, one-sided as it was. But Beth didn't think he heard it too often - kind of like no one went around thanking Rick for being in charge, or Michonne for putting herself on the line all the time - support wasn't something people thought about around here too often. Maybe that was part of the problem.

To Beth's astonishment, his cheeks seemed to turn pink beneath to tan and grime on his face, and he ducked his head. "I better get going," he mumbled, and Beth dropped her hand from his arm, feeling foreign tingles in her fingertips.

"Yeah, of course," she replied. "I gotta get Judith fed and settled, anyway." She nodded, glancing briefly from his big, calloused hands to his face. After a meaningful (_but meaning what?_ Beth wondered) look, he turned and swaggered down the cell block, headed towards an evening in the guard tower. Sighing, she turned and headed to her room, where Judith's make-shift bassonet set beside her bunk.

For some reason, though, she thought of those blue eyes for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Before traipsing up to the tower, Daryl stole into the kitchen to grab something to eat. Usually, someone would set them up with a little packed lunch to take up with them. It was a perk of being one of the chosen, he supposed - accompanied by a sarcastic grunt. He grabbed a brown bag from the little pile and headed out. It was beginning to cool off, the heat of summer only sticking around for the afternoons, where it could get sweltering still. But the nights were getting cooler, and he was glad for the flannel button-up he wore, sleeves still intact, with his trademark leather vest over top.

He knew he was long over-due for the shower, felt sticky and filthy, but another couple hours wasn't gonna make or break him. He settled in once climbing up the ladder, nodding in passing to Maggie before she disappeared. He didn't want to think about what she and her man got up to in the tower, ignored the sleeping bag he found spread on the floor sometimes. How those two managed to find time in the middle of hell, when the world had ended, was baffling to him. Not that he hadn't thought about it. Thought about _her_. But it seemed... safer, somehow, to keep his distance.

Seemed like when people got close to each other, started caring 'bout each other, _thats_ when they died. Just ripped right out of this world, turned into a monster with a hunger for human flesh. That was worse than just dying. The injustice, the irony. Fighting so hard to cull their numbers, and when ya died, ya became one. If there was a God, which Daryl Dixon highly doubted, he had a morbid sense of humor. No sense of sympathy.

But Beth Greene, with her pale porcelain skin, big blue eyes, and small but plump pink lips. Yeah, he allowed himself to think on that sometimes, when it was late at night and particularly quiet. When he couldn't sleep, and he wasn't in the tower watching the perimeters, Daryl let his thoughts drift to the pretty young girl. She was eighteen now, not that it really mattered, as she was still young enough to be his daughter. But there was something about her... Her soulful, deep blue eyes and gentle, calm demeanor. She was light years beyond himself at eighteen - acted more like a thirty year old woman than a teenager, that was fore sure.

The way she looked at him, sometimes, made him feel like things were going to be all right. They had to be, because she willed it so. And how anything could go the opposite of how Beth Greene wanted, Daryl didn't know. He couldn't dream of telling that beautiful, sweet girl _no_ to anything.

It was dangerous, thinking that way. So most of the time, Daryl didn't let himself. Once he started caring, even from afar... It was like signing a death sentence. He couldn't bring that on her, couldn't lose another person from their group. 'Specially not _her_. He'd keep away, watch her from afar. Keep her safe, the best he knew how.

* * *

At dinner, Carl found an empty spot beside Lizzie, and against his better judgement, he took it. Her little sister, Mika, was gazing into her dinner, looking somber and tired for a little girl. She was sweet - nothing like Lizzie, who was annoying and never shut up. He wanted to tell her that she was dumb for thinking that anything was going on between Daryl and Beth, wanted to point out that they weren't a realistic pair. But the expression on her face was enough to shut him up, and he ate his brothy soup in silence beside her.

"Patrick is sick," Mika said after a few long moments of silence. "I'm going to bring him dinner to his cell."

"Ya oughta stay away from him, if he's sick. Might catch it," Carl said, eyeing her seriously. Mika flushed and glanced back to her bowl.

"Don't need to be mean," Lizzie said, turning her nose up at him. "Mika didn't do anything wrong."

Carl rolled his eyes. He didn't miss the way her warm, amber-brown eyes flashed with anger. It occured to him that she looked kinda pretty, when that happened. "You're such a little kid," he teased her, finding a smile.

"Ugh! Am not," she whined, and he chuckled at her response. It was kinda fun, getting a response out of her.

"You're just being a brat, because I'm right about _you-know-who_," Carl said. He poked her in the shoulder, and she dropped her spoon with a clatter. "I been watching 'em all day, and they ain't even talkin' to each other. They're definitely not _in love_."

"How would _you_ know?" Lizzie pressed. She tucked her honey-blonde hair behind her ears and glared at him. "You wouldn't know love if it came up and bit ya." She winked at her little sister, who was trying not to giggle at their confrontation.

"Neither would you!" Carl protested.

Lizzie sighed and shook her head. "Girls always _know_. It's the guys who have no idea..."

* * *

**Isn't that the truth? So we begin our journey of love in the time of zombies. Welcome to my world! I hope you enjoy. This story will contain lemon, a bit of plot (nothing too heavy, I'm hoping - no promises, though), and some fluff and action. I really liked the Carl/Lizzie moments on the show, as well as her moments with Carol in last weeks episode and wanted to explore her character. It's AU, of course, because I didn't want to kill off people yet because I'm just getting a feel and easing into the story. It might wind up following the show, but for now, I'd safely call it AU.**

**I'm looking for pre-readers/betas. Please, if you're interested, let me know. I'm more than happy to return the favor! You can find me on TUMBLR as ' idreamoffrankie ' if you'd like to see personal updates and sneak peeks of the story. And lots of pretty pictures. **

**Review, let me know what you think. Greatly appreciated, ya'll!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Waste of an Arrow**

**Rating: M**

**By: FrankieLouWho**

**Disclaimer: I do not own, I do not profit.**

Chapter Two

They were on the second belcony of the cell block, laying on their bellies, bored as hell but observing. The adults were having a meeting, one that _they_ were not invited to. Spitefully, Carl had told Lizzie what his plan was - eavesdropping - and she had whined and moaned until he agreed to let her tag along. Part of him liked it - not being alone, the only one his age, no one understanding. He might have been a kid, but he wasn't stupid. He'd killed his own mother, killed that Woodbury kid - it wasn't fair to try and keep him out of matters when he was one of the group, one of the protectors. Once he got his gun back again...

"Look," Rick said. "I'm not in charge here. But I think it's time.. We need to make a run. Its tight with all these people, and people are going through clothes and food like it ain't the end of the world."

"But the governor-" Maggie started. She and Glenn shared a look, and Carl glanced over at Lizzie. He didn't know how much she knew about what went down with that whole situation, but he wasn't going to fill her in. Not now, at least.

"He's a threat," Carol agreed. "But there are some risks we have to take."

Beth was sitting with Judith sleeping in her thin arms, quiet as a lamb. Her big blue eyes were watching. Carl didn't know that she was a part of meetings like this, and it just made him mad all over again. It wasn't fair - she didn't do anything, just took care of the baby and helped with meals and laundry. She shouldn't have had any kind of say on what went on, but _she_ got to be invited. She was only a few years older than him, could barely handle a weapon! His cheeks flushed with anger, and Carl clenched his fists.

They were all losing their minds, he decided. They were going nuts, just like his dad. Too much pressure, too much death, too much sadness. People had to have a certain breaking point, right?

He felt a nudge to his shoulder, and Carl gave Lizzie a sidelong look, impatient. She was distracting him. But she pointed down, and Carl's gaze followed her nail-bitten finger. Daryl stood at the edge of the room, perched on a table top, directly behind Beth. No one was paying him any attention, too focused on the erupting argument. But to Carl's surprise, his eyes were trained on the blonde haired girl. He wasn't even _trying_ to hide his stare.

"Doesn't mean anything," Carl whispered.

"Does too," Lizzie said. "He loves her."

"Sh," Carl said, shaking his head. His dark eyes said, "Not now." She buttoned her lips and turned her attention back to the meeting, deciding to drop it for now. But the girl had seen plenty of romance movies, read trashy novels her dad didn't know about - otherwise, he certainly wouldn't have let her. But it was always like this. Two people, from seeimingly such different worlds, thrust into dramatic situations where their passions would collide and love would blossom. It was enough to make her swoon... At the very least, it was a pleasant distraction from the current state of things.

When they sensed the meeting was drawing to a close, discussing when they run would take place and who would go, the two young teenagers slipped away, unnoticed. They walked the cell block, heading to where Lizzie and Mika shared a cell. Both were quiet, and thoughtful.

Finally, Carl asked, "Why do you care so much if Daryl and Beth like each other?"

Lizzie paused, glancing at him in surprise. "It's like - it's like, hope. You know? Like if people can still fall in love, and still have all of that junk after everything we've all been through... It makes me think that maybe there's still someone out for me, that my Prince Charming hasn't been eaten by a walker... Or turned into one." She shrugged, gave him a silly smile. "I know it's dumb, but it makes me happy. I don't know."

Carl studied her for a moment. He knew exactly what she was talking about, what she meant. It was like his baby sister. She was a source of happiness and joy for many of their camp, a sign that life could and _would_ go on, even when the worst happens. Keeping that baby alive was the most important thing to Carl. He wouldn't lose another girl he loved. If that's what Beth and Daryl's relationship was for Lizzie, he could totally understand her. And he found himself wondering if he could maybe, somehow, make it happen. Just for her.

"Well," he said, awkwardly. He stared for a bit too long at her, making her blush. "Gotta go." He turned swiftly and stalked back towards the big room, not looking behind him. For some reason, his cheeks burned, and his chest felt weird and tight.

* * *

"Shoot," he heard her hiss. It was the closest he'd ever come to hearing her curse, and Daryl smiled in pleasant surprise. He'd been coming up to make sure that she was really, truly ready to come on a run. Their last one hadn't been the most successful. They lost that kid she was flirting with, Zach, and though she insisted she didn't cry anymore... Well, Daryl thought that might be worse than crying altogether.

Standing at the edge of her cell, Daryl surveyed the scene before him. Holding Judith at arms length, with goopy carrot-orange spit-up oozing down the front of her shirt, it was the most flustered he'd ever seen Beth Greene. She was glancing around, trying to figure out how to take care of the baby while getting the spit-up off her. Chuckling, Daryl stepped in and scooped the child from her hands.

"Hey, Lil Asskicker," he said softly, smiling down. Judith gurgled and rolled her big eyes up at him, smiling and giggling.

"Thanks," Beth said, grateful. She turned her back, slipping the tank top off. Daryl felt his mouth go dry. There were those back dimples, the ones that haunted his dreams, above the top of her shorts. Her back was unmarred, pale and creamy, and he forced his eyes away respectfully. She hadn't been wearing a bra. "I swear to goodness, sometimes it feels like I don't have enough hands with her."

Her nipples were hard. Daryl pretended not to notice.

Beth let Daryl hold the baby while she straightened up. She had clothes - her's and Judith's - strewn everywhere, along with toys and blankets. She rambled on about the events of the day, leading up to the meeting. He was curious - she'd volunteered to go, saying that she wanted to be more useful to the group. It was ridiculous - didn't she know how valuable she was? Maybe it seemed like babysitting was worthless, but it was more than looking after the child. She kept their homestead feeling like _home_. She leant her voice, her kindness, a sweet smile and gentle words. She was great with the kids, always eager to lend a hand, and without people like her, they would have fallen apart. Women like her, and Carol and Lori, the ones that took care... Well, they made fighting for something to come home to worth it. Every time they risked their necks to make sure everyone was safe, that every belly was full, it was worth it. Because it meant that _she_ was taken care of.

"I just don't want to sit around here when I can be helping," Beth was saying. "I just want to be useful."

Daryl wanted to tell her how he felt, but that wasn't really his thing. Instead, he handed the baby back to her and gave her a long, studying look. "Just want to make sure you're not gonna get ya self killed out there."

Her chin jutted out defiantly. "I can take care of myself."

Daryl snorted. "Can you even shoot a gun?"

"_Yes_," Beth hissed. She was really getting worked up now, and color blossomed in her cheeks. Nothing was prettier than an angry Beth Greene, Daryl realized, though it wasn't really his intention to do so.

"Well, I'll be watchin' ya, girl," Daryl said. He was awkward, he knew, and she took it the wrong way.

"That's not new, is it? All you ever do is watch," she murmured. His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his shaggy brown hair, dark and in need of washing. What did that mean? He didn't ask, just grunted in response. Maybe she had noticed him... Maybe he was slipping up. Shaking his head, wanting to leave the situation five minutes ago before it all went to shit, he turned to go.

* * *

"They are so clueless," Lizzie mumbled, shaking her head. They were watching, _spying_, and it was exciting even though she felt a little guilty. "It's just like in Bridget Jones Diary, when she doesn't realize that she _really_ loves Mark Darcy -"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Carl replied, face blank. "And I don't really care."

Lizzie huffed in annoyance. They slunk into the empty cell a few spaces down, hidden from Daryl as he stomped past. Carl listened as his footsteps grew echoy, then silent. The two teenagers were quiet, thoughtful. Finally, Lizzie sighed.

"We're going to have to help them," she said with finality.

"_Help them_? How?" Carl asked.

"Get them together, _duh_," Lizzie said. "You might be a year older, but you are _not _a year smarter than me."

He let that one slide. One side of him wanted nothing more than Beth to get into a big fight with Daryl, and ignore him, and only hang out with Carl. She was so pretty, so nice, and he liked the way her voice sounded when she sang lullabies to Judith. It made him feel funny, inside - sometimes, he felt similarly when he thought of Lizzie. But it wasn't quite the same... But he had to admit, Lizzie did have a point. Anyone could see - if a thirteen and fourteen year old could see it, he reasoned, it had to be obvious to all of the adults - that the two were circling, like fighters in the ring. And Beth was right - Daryl definitely kept his eyes on her a lot, especially lately, and her cheeks were always pink, lips always smiling, when he were around. Maybe Lizzie was right.

Heck, it wasn't like he had much else going on. Maybe they could help, after all.

"What's your plan?" he asked, and Lizzie tightened her honey-blonde ponytail before sinking onto the bunk beside Carl.

"Well, in 10 Things I Hate About You -"

"No, I mean, how are we going to do this in real life? This isn't the movies," Carl added impatiently.

"We could write them notes. Tell them to meet up somewhere at the same time, or something... And then they meet up..."

"And what?"

The two shared a look, before sighing. Lizzie rubbed her temples. "We'll have to think of something. Let's meet up at breakfast," she added.

Carl nodded. Saying their goodnights, they seperated in different directions, heading to their rooms. His mind was working over time, trying to find the perfect situation. He changed into his pajamas and fell into bed, one arm draped over his chest. He had to admit, and only to himself, that seeing Beth and Daryl together was kind of... Good. It was like seeing his parents together, or something. He was all hard, rough and blunt where Beth was soft and gentle. He could protect her, better than anyone else. And when it came to taking care of people... Well, Daryl Dixon never asked for anyone to do anything for him. Beth never _needed_ to be asked. She wanted to help.

_Maybe I..._ The thought was half-formed, and Carl slipped to sleep before really fleshing it out. Hopefully Lizzie was having better luck than him.

* * *

**That's it for today! I hope you guys enjoyed reading, because I enjoy the writing part. Now, I have the second half of my shift to go to, money to make, weed to smoke, perhaps a glass of wine to top it all off while I thumb through tumblr ( idreamoffrankie ) and drool over pictures of Norman Reedus. **

**Please review, it makes my life 3**


	3. Chapter 3

**sorry! somehow, the end of this chapter didn't post the first time around, so I had to re-do it. enjoy the lizzie/daryl interaction at the end, might clear up any confusion with the beginning of chapter four! thank you :]**

* * *

Chapter Three

Beth knew that she was in a state this morning. She woke up on the wrong side of the bed, with Judith wailing in one ear, and her foot half asleep. Not to mention, the deliciously sinful and slightly disturbing dream that she'd woken up from... Shaking her long blonde hair out of her face, she hastened to Judith's box-bassonet, making soft, reassuring noises as she plucked the baby up. Her brown eyes gazed up, and a smile broke over her chubby cheeks. _Well if that doesn't turn my day around..._ Beth smiled back. But then she had a flash of memory - tan arms, strong and firm beneath her hands, scent of smoke and sweat, soft lips pressing against her own - and she flinched.

For a few beats, Beth stood as still as a statue, save for blinking off into space, holding Judith awkwardly between her diaper-changing station and her chest.

"Uh, need some help?"

She bit her lip, keeping her shriek of surprise inside. No use having everyone running up to her cell, thinking something bad had happened. It was that little girl, Lizzie, one of the Woodbury refugees. She was a cute little thing, skinny with big eyes and a mess of honey brown hair bound in a low ponytail. Beth noticed that she and Carl were getting close, catching them hanging out often. It was good for him to finally be around someone his age. Especially after everything, from Sophia to his mother to the kid he'd shot. Also, it was good to see that his misplaced affections seemed to find a more sensible match.

"Thanks," Beth said. She wasn't offered a hand all the time, and she was glad to put the baby in the little girl's hands. She changed quickly into a pair of jeans, but left on her white V-neck from the night before on. Thank God for those three-packs of white Hanes undershirts. She hoarded them.

"Hi baby!" Lizzie said cheerfully, bringing Judith to the floor. The baby was fussing, ready for her bottle. Beth wanted to splash some cold water on her face, and asked Lizzie if she minded watching Judith while she ran to get some warm water for the bottle, as well. "No problem. I used to watch Mika for my mama when she was a baby, too."

Beth smiled, fondly, instantly liking her, and ducked towards the kitchen. Carol would have a pot of water boiling, and she could take a detour to the bathroom to brush her teeth, too. It was still early, and quiet, and the showers were thankfully empty. Beth had walked in on a few too many folks since the influx of Woodbury residents, and was glad to have a moment of solitude. Especially when she had that dream to consider.

Glancing in the mirror with water dripping down her forehead and cheeks, Beth met her own gaze. It had been a long, _long_ time since she woke up feeling flustered and hot. Wet dreams didn't come easy to her now. Now, she mostly dreamt of walkers, their mangled, decaying hands reaching for her, grazing her arms and catching her ankles, mouths open and groaning, blood sputtering up. No, _this_ dream, last night's, was something scary in a different way. Because how was she going to be able to look Daryl Dixon in the eye after that?

A blush stained her cheeks, and she glanced away from her own blue eyes in the reflection. It felt so real, still, even though she was awake. Vivid. The worn-soft flannel of his sleeveless shirt, the burn-scratch of stubble on her cheeks and neck and chest and _thighs_. Shivering, Beth allowed herself only a few seconds to ruminate on that, before she turned and headed towards the kitchen. In her head, she cursed him.

_Stupid redneck. Stupid hillbilly. Stupid, __**stupid**__ Daryl Dixon and his too-blue eyes and calloused hands and the way he looks so good holding Judith, holding his bow, holding __**me**_.

She told herself to get a grip, took a deep, steadying breath, and breezed into the kitchen. Carl was sitting at a table, picking at his oatmeal, and she flashed him a bright, too-big for how early it was smile. He quirked an eyebrow in suspicious reply - the look was a straight rip-off of the ridiculous person she was currently hot and bothered about. She glanced away quickly.

On her way back to the cell, she ran into him.

Initially, she was concerned. Dark (well, darker than normal) bags under his eyes, hair a shaggy disaster, wearing his clothes from yesterday only bloodier, covered in more dust and grime. He nodded at her, slowing to a stop, and Beth realized with a silent, inward groan that he wanted to _talk_. The man of few to no words was approaching her now. _Great_.

"I jus' wanted to apologize," he said gruffly, catching her off guard with his blunt apology. Beth didn't think that it was something he had done much in his life - apologize. "'Bout last night. Didn't mean ta get your panties in a twist."

"You have _no_ affect on my panties, Dixon!" Beth exclaimed, though it was obviously untrue if she were honest about her condition after the dream. She'd been clenching her thighs together all morning, ignoring the images that invaded her mind. Especially the one where he lifted her up, hands cupping her bottom, pressing her flush against him and capturing her lips in a toe-curling, blood-burning kiss.

"Uh, all righ' then," Daryl mumbled, looking ten times more awkward now. He ducked his head and peered at her, squinting his too-blue eyes. "I think you'll be fine. On the run."

"Thanks," Beth said, surprised at the relief in her voice.

Daryl nodded, awkwardly cupped her elbow, squeezed, before traipsing on. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as he left, feeling the tingley-burn in her skin from where he touched her.

Further down, Lizzie was peeking out of the cell, an unrestrained expression of excitement on her pretty young face.

"They were talking about her panties!" Lizzie whisper-screeched in his ear. Carl would have pushed her off, if she hadn't said 'panties' and her breath didn't smell candy-sweet, like vanilla ice cream and strawberries. What'd she been eating? He wanted strawberries and ice cream. But then he remembered that she'd said 'panties' and he felt a weird, creeping heat on the back of his neck, and low in his belly.

"What? Who was?" he asked, but his voice sounded weird, even to his ears.

Lizzie didn't notice. She was too hyped up on whatever she was talking about, and maybe sugar, Carl thought suspiciously. She bounced on her toes in the mid-afternoon sunlight, her scuffed sneakers kicking up dust. Lizzie didn't care, and she moved around him like a little hummingbird.

"They're in love! They're _so_ in love and they don't even know it!" she screamed into the wind, the only reply the groans and dead-noises that the walkers made. With an eyeroll, Carl grabbed her by her slender shoulders, noting that she was again where that stupid ugly vest, but not saying anything about _that_.

"Calm down, Lizzie," Carl said, gazing into her big brown eyes. "Tell me what happened."

"I went to help Beth with Judith this morning, 'cause Miss Carol said that she might appreciate it, and I want to pull my weight too," Lizzie started. Oh, Lord, she was going to tell him the _entire_ story, shot-for-shot, and Carl wished he had a chair to pull up so he could relax. "So, when I got to her room, she was standin' there are moon-eyed, just holding the baby like a weirdo. I told her I'd take her, and she went to get a bottle around, and then when she was comin' back, Daryl stopped her. I saw him coming," she added. Dark amber eyes were wide and dilated excitedly.

"And... what does this have to do with Beth's panties?" His cheeks flushed. Putting those two words together did nothing to settle him down.

"He was apologizing for arguin' with her last night, and said he was sorry he got her panties in a twist," Lizzie replied, eyes twinkling with so much mischief. "And Beth says, "You have no affect on my panties!" All loud and shrill." She covered her mouth, giggling, and Carl was torn between wanting to see her smile and annoyance at her girlish reaction.

"That doesn't prove _shit_," Carl said with a sigh.

"He apologized! That's a step in the right direction," Lizzie pointed out, crossing her arms over her non-existant chest. Carl wanted to point out that he'd been right, that Beth was likely to get herself killed out on this run, being such an amatuer. _He_ should be going, after all, he knew how to handle himself and a weapon and no one would have to look out for him. Maybe he'd talk Michonne into taking him, sometime. When he got his gun back.

"Yeah, yeah," Carl said, waving a hand dismissively. He spotted Mika chasing down the hill towards them, and sighed. "Looks like the discussion is over."

"Meet me tonight, after dinner. In that one cell," Lizzie said. She pressed her hands onto his shoulders, and Carl tried not to react. Inside, his heart beat a quick tattoo against his chest and her hands burned through his T-shirt. "I think I've got an idea, but - you know. Let me think."

He nodded, watching her turn and run to meet up with her sister. It was probably Storytime, or something equally stupid. Carl began his pacing of the fence, the inner one where the walkers couldn't reach. It was as close as he got to being alone, and he wanted to think some more. Not just about Daryl and Beth, because even though he agreed to help and wanted to help Lizzie get them together, he knew that nothing they did would really have any bearing on them. Daryl and Beth were grown ups (sort of) and would make their own decisions... No, he turned his rapid thoughts to Lizzie.

He was so distracted that he didn't hear his dad calling his name. Not a for a while, at least, judging by the frustrated look on Rick's face when he grabbed his shoulder to spin him around. Shaking it off, he squinted up at him, against the sun, and realized it was probably time for pig duty. With a groan, he followed, and left his private thoughts about the honey-haired girl where they were.

_Oh God. There he is_.

Lizzie felt her heart quicken in her chest and she glanced down at the math problems Carol had given her. The library was stuffy and hot, and they didn't get to do anything cool today, like handle knives, but it was all right. Sometimes the weapons made her nervous, her palms got sweaty, and she didn't want to think about all the stuff she'd had to do before the prison, before Woodbury.

Daryl Dixon had stalked into the library, in his cool and dangerous way. He was so _cool_. And handsome. Daryl never got scared, never felt so little and helpless that he woke up from nightmares in the middle of the night. He could protect them, protect himself, and even if he was _old_ he was still strong, muscular, and so gosh-darn attractive that it made her palms sweaty all over again.

Carol beamed at him, smiling up from the little table where she helped some of the smaller kids - her sister included - with spelling and letters. Mika had been in first grade when the world went to walkers, but she was smart and quick and light-years ahead of the other babies in her group.

She remembered the conversation this morning, smiling to herself as she pretended to study the paper in front of her. Hearing the word 'panties' fall from Daryl's lips was enough to make her turn scarlet and want to swoon. It was irrational, and stupid, but Lizzie hadn't missed the strained look on Carl's face when _she_ said it.

If only Beth knew all the ruckus going on about her underwear. She'd just die.

It was the perfect opportunity, Lizzie realized, to have a little fun. Make a little progress - pushing those two together was turning into the best game she'd ever invented. It was her special talent, telling stories, making up fantastic tales. When it was late at night and Mika couldn't fall asleep, because it was too cold or they were too hungry or the walkers were making too much noise, she would weave tales. Most of them were about princesses and unicorns, mysterious diamond necklaces with powers to heal whomever wore it... This was kind of the same, only her characters were real people, with free will. If only they would open their eyes and see what was right in front of them! Lizzie muttered something to her tablemates about using the bathroom, and scooted out of the room. She waited in the hallway, hoping no one came by and asked her what she was doing.

Leaning against the stone wall, she pretended to play casual, but her heart was beating. When Daryl trudged from the library, she cleared her throat. Leaning against the wall, one foot cocked back and arms crossed over her chest, Lizzie felt like a bad guy from a gangster movie.

Daryl half-turned to her, smirking over his shoulder. "Ain't you supposed to be at Storytime?"

Lizzie shrugged. "Ain't you supposed to be lookin' out for Beth?" She mimicked his words and was intensely proud of how blase she sounded.

It had it's desired effect. Daryl's eyebrows lifted in surprise, and he turned fully to face her with his hands on his hips. _So cute_, Lizzie thought. Her cheeks were betraying, flooding with color, but she held her ground. "The hell you talkin' about?" he asked. "Said I was lookin' after _Beth_?"

"You like her, right? I thought guys were supposed to take care of the girls they liked," she said matter-of-fact. Daryl looked so puzzled now that it was downright hysterical - if not a bit frightening, as the man cut an intimidating figure.

"Girl, y'ain't makin' a lick a sense," Daryl said, shaking his head.

Lizzie shrugged. "All right then. If you say so." She turned to head back into the library, but he caught her by the collar of her dirty vest.

"Beth say somethin' to ya?" he pressed her.

"No," Lizzie said slowly. Her heart beat wildly.

"Beth is a good girl. She's a _friend_," Daryl emphasized. "I always take care of my friends, my family. Got that?"

Lizzie nodded and he released her. Straightening her clothes, she sent him a hard look. "Yeah, well. Don't get your _panties_ in a twist when some other guy is trying to look after her, ya know? Can't get mad about that." She turned on her heel, striding quickly into the dusty, stuffy library before he could comment. She was a bit shaken, but confident at the same time. If the seed hadn't been planted already, it certainly was now. Satisfied, Lizzie slid into her seat and picked up her pencil.

She'd have a lot to tell Carl at dinner.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Daryl didn't even know the kid's name, and while he felt a little badly about pulling on her clothes, he was just as bewildered as his expression let on. He had no idea what in the hell got into the little slip of a girl, but she was standing in the hall, sassin' him like she _knew_ him. He almost felt... Chastised? Scolded? She wasn't nothin' but knee high to a grasshopper, and she thought she could _tell him_? He grunted to himself, shaking his head. And just where in tarnation did she get the idea that there was something going on between him and Beth?

Yeah, he spent more time around her now. Hard not to, when she was always takin' care of Lil Asskicker. Hard not to when their group had dwindled in numbers, when there weren't too many of the original gang left. He'd known her a while, watched her grow up into a young woman. She might not look much different, but Daryl could remember back on the farm, when she was quiet and shy. When she was depressed, when she was thinking of giving up... But she was a fighter, a country girl at heart, and she made it through those dark times. She was making it through _these_ dark times, too, as gracefully as any of them could.

And yet... And yet, Daryl couldn't hide from himself. He'd been more than aware of her lately, more than he could justify. Hadn't he just been ogling her perky little nipples last night? Didn't those back dimples haunt him, popping up on the movie-theater of his mind? She was beautiful, heart-wrenchingly so. Her bright smiles and sweet voice lurked in his dreams, in those moments between awake and asleep where his barriers were lowered and his thoughts would wander. Yes, Daryl Dixon was attracted to her. But he never intended to _do_ anything about it. He didn't shit where he ate, never had. It was a Dixon rule. Part of the code.

_Not gonna happen_.

However, a teen girl with big amber eyes and a heavy dose of attitude was making him wonder.

_"You're losin' it, Darylena," _Merle's voice nagged in his head. Great. Just what he needed. Someone else to comment on the state of his affairs. Daryl grit his teeth and stomped throught he prison, until he was outside in the mid-day sunlight. He wanted nothing more than to hop on his bike, ride a while, clear his mind. Maybe slip into the woods and pick off a few walkers, work off this frustration. Between Beth and the run, dealing with all these new people and new responsibility, the threat of the governor in the mix as well... Last thing he needed was some unrequited love to distract him from doing what was best, taking care of his people.

"Let me out?" Daryl asked, approaching Carl at the gate. The kid was standing there, eyes stuck to the lurching, stumbling dead that roamed the tall grass on the outside of the fence. He looked lost in his thoughts too, and Daryl could relate. _Women_, he thought with a mental snort. He wished he didn't feel pitiful to sympathize with a fourteen year old kid.

"Where ya goin'?" Carl asked, making no move to open the heavy gate for him.

Daryl grunted. He wasn't used to answering to people, 'specially not kids. He wasn't feeling exactly chatty, either. Not that _that_ was very different from any other day.

Carl sighed and rolled his eyes, but moved to the rope pulley they had rigged up to open and shut the reinforced entry. Spikes stuck up, sometimes trapping walkers when the doors open and swept them to the sides. Sometimes, the dumb fucks were unlucky enough to stumble onto them, where they would stay put until someone picked them off. Hands reaching into their air, for nothing, but still searching for something...

He headed out on foot, his bow in hand and another big hunting knife sheathed on his belt. Daryl knew that being out on his own in the woods for a bit would do wonders for clearing his mind, resetting his mood. Hopefully, he'd return with a big buck or something for dinner. Providing, the best way he knew how, for his people.

* * *

Carl found himself looking for Lizzie later that evening, as the masses began to swarm the kitchen. Daryl had returned after a few hours of solitude, buck draped across his shoulders and his brow furrowed in concentration. He'd dropped it just inside the gate, claiming that he'd gotten it that far, the others could do the rest. Dinner was pushed back until they could get the deer skinned and gutted, throwing it into a stew. Carol cooked the best out of everyone, and she could make everything - even squirrel meat, in the old days - taste good.

He was about to just get in line when Lizzie suddenly popped up at his side, holding an extra bowl and shoving it at him. Her wide amber eyes were deadly serious.

"We need to _talk_," she said, voice thick with all kinds of insinuations. Carl nodded, silently, and followed her to a table in the far corner, where no one else sat. Both were hungry, and dug into their dinner for a little bit, until Lizzie paused long enough to say, "So I was talking to Daryl today..."

"When?" Carl asked. He knew he had to look surprised - Lizzie giggled at him. But he wasn't expecting her to approach the man. This game was supposed to be a spectator sport, one that wouldn't be traced back to the two of them. Shaking his head at her amatuer attempts, he listened as she explained.

"It was during Storytime. Daryl came in to talk to Miss Carol, and I said I had to go to the bathroom. I waited in the hallway until he came out." She paused and spooned a big chunk of meat and veggies into her mouth. "And when he came out, I _might_ have said something about how if he cared about Beth, he'd take care of her."

"You didn't," Carl said. He was shocked - it took a lot of balls to say something like _that_ to anyone, let alone the grouchiest man he had ever known. Daryl was a good man, someone that Carl admitted he looked up to, perhaps more than his own father these days. But he could also be meaner than a junk yard dog, and imagining Lizzie saying those things to his face was enough to make Carl respect her, just a little bit.

"I did too! I told him he couldn't get his panties in a twist when someone else decided that Beth was worth takin' care of." Lizzie smiled, satisfied with herself, and Carl grinned as he put two and two together.

"That must have been why he was so grumpy earlier," he said. "I wondered what crawled up his ass and died." Lizzie's eyes widened at his swear, but she didn't comment. "Well played, Lizzie. What's the plan now?"

She glanced across the cafeteria, through the sea of people, until her eyes landed first on Beth, then on Daryl. Carl watched as well, both of them silently contemplating the clueless adults they were helping. Beth was sitting with her sister, and Maggie had her arms around Glenn. Daryl was sulking in the background, watching them all. When his sky-blue, light blue eyes met Carl's, he nodded.

"I guess we wait," Lizzie said with a sigh. "Give it a day or two. See if anything happens."

"You're the boss," Carl said, and realized at her beatific smile that he was glad, _really_ glad, that he'd agreed to help her.

* * *

Beth was humming a quiet version of 'Hey Jude' when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. It'd been a long, distracted day, and she wasn't necessarily up for a chat right now. She knew, without a hesitation, that when she turned around, Daryl Dixon would be standing there, in his sleeveless flannel button-up with that leather vest over it. He never could seem to keep his sleeves. Something made her positive that it was him. Maybe it was the way her heart began to race, or the hair that stood up on the back of her neck. Sighing, Beth half-turned, glancing over her shoulder with a wary smile.

"Hello," she murmured, then rubbed her lips across Judith's forehead before slipping the sleeping child into her crate. Her face was the picture of serenity, and Beth traced her cheek, feather light, before turning her full attention to the man in her door way.

Daryl nodded his hello. He rubbed the stubble on his chin, and Beth read his body language carefully. Something was on his mind, and it wasn't something that he _enjoyed_. He seemed stressed, more than normal, and she wondered curiously what was going on.

"Did you need something?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," Daryl said, and Beth arched an eyebrow at him quizzically. He scruffed a hand through his greasy brown hair, and sighed. "We got the run tomorrow, first thing in the morning. I want you ta stick by me. I'd - I'd feel better if ya stuck close to me." His cornflower blue eyes were glued to his boots, or her bare toes on the cement floor. Huffing impatiently, Beth's hands went straight to her hips and her eyes narrowed at his downcast blues.

"I thought we went over this - I am a grown woman, Daryl Dixon, and I don't -"

"No, I know," he said, quickly. "I know ya can take care of ya-self." Daryl shook his head, then let his head roll back and gazed up at the overhead light. He muttered something under his breath, but Beth was bewitched by his sudden change in attitude, his agreeing that she was a capable human being. "I just mean, that... It would make me feel better. To have you close to me."

"Oh." Her mouth formed a little 'O' of surprise, blue eyes wide. Well, this was new. This was... _different_. She waited for him to go on, and it was quickly apparent that Daryl would rather be anywhere else in the world, getting a root canal by someone with Parkinsons, serving himself up on a platter for starved-desperate walkers. He was uncomfortable, uneasy, and it was somewhat comical, but mostly endearing. Beth had never seen him so lost for words.

"What are you trying to say?" Beth asked, gazing up at him. For the first time, their eyes met - no, _clashed_. There was a fiery, fierce look behind his, and he took two steps to cross the room to her. His hands were on her shoulders, and Beth remembered the dream she'd had the previous night. Maybe it had been more of a premonition?

"I ain't gon' say goodbye to you, girl." His voice was unsteady. "I _can't_."

Beth softened, a little smile tugging at her lips. She stepped into his arms, wrapping her arms around his middle, and sighed. It wasn't a vow of never-ending love, but the man was saying something here. Something more than she'd heard from anyone other than Maggie or Daddy, and it felt good to know that there was someone that would be sad if she were gone. She pulled back to gaze at him, finding his face a mixture of hesitant, awkward confusion and relief.

"I promise," she whispered, voice thick and husky to his ears. "I'll stick to your side like glue, Daryl. Promise."

They gazed into each other's eyes for a long moment, and in a dream-like moment, Daryl cupped her full, round cheek in a rough hand. His callouses felt somehow _good_ on her smooth flesh, and she leaned into his touch. She couldn't stand it - the either needed to end this sweet little moment, or she was going to do something that surely the both of them would regret. It was too intense, the race of her heart too fast to be healthy, and blood pounded and burned through her veins like a house on fire.

_Touch me, touch me, touch me_, her brain chanted, clinging to the mantra as her nerves tingled with anticipation.

"Good," Daryl mumbled. "Good." And, in the same moment, they leaned into each other. She could see flecks of light, sky blue around his iris before her eyes slipped shut, and their lips met in a soft, feather-light kiss.

* * *

**AND YES THEY KISSED! DOUBLE UPDATE YA'LL! Hope you enjoyed. I'll let you in on a secret - things get lemony in about six chapters, so get ready. Prepare yourselves. Love you all, kisses!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Lizzie shook Carl awake. It was still very dark, and his sleep-slow brain wasn't sure if it was morning or the middle of the night. He groaned, rolling onto his back to glare up at her. She was wearing a big T-shirt that hit her coltish knees, and her hair was wild and tangled. Her cheeks were flushed pink.

"Carl!" she hissed, when his eyes began to droop back shut. He sighed, and she scooted over. Somehow, he was inviting her to sit on his bed.

"What?" he asked, his voice thick. He licked his dry lips.

"It's Patrick," she said, falling onto her knees on his narrow bunk. "Patrick is - he's _dead_."

That sliced the groggy feeling away. Carl's eyes went wide, and he sat up with her. "What do you mean?" His stomach dropped, boiling with lead and anxiety and sadness. It was hard to lose anyone, but Patrick was _his_ age. The two weren't particularly close, as Patrick was a geek and enjoyed Storytime and didn't care much for weapons or guns or fighting and defending the prison. Carl was ashamed to remember that he thought of the kid as a cow with glasses - following the herd, not wanting to get his hands dirty.

And now he was dead.

"I mean, something happened to him... Someone found him in the showers, blood all over him. No bite." Lizzie's eyes were shining in the darkness, and Carl realized that she was going to cry. Awkwardly, he put a hand on her shoulder, and before he could react or stop her, she threw her arms around his neck and burried her face in his neck. She was warm, light as she hung on him, and he patted her back uncomfortably. It wasn't _unpleasant_, actually - though he did wish that the sobs that wracked her small body would cease. That part wasn't fun. But having her hands on him, having her so close, made his heart race.

"Its ok," he found himself soothing. "It's sad, but it happens, Lizzie. You're safe, I'm safe, your sister is ok..." He went on listing all the people in the prison that he could think of, and Lizzie pulled back, using an over-sized sleeve to wipe her face.

"I know," she whispered. "I just got so scared - I had to come, see you with my own eyes." Amber eyes met his own, briefly, and both teenagers blushed and looked away quickly. Sadness turned to embarrassed silence after her truth, and Carl cleared his throat to dispell it.

"I'll walk you back to your cell," he offered.

"Can I just stay here, a little longer?" Lizzie asked, and he nodded. He pulled back the scratchy old blanket and she slipped in beside him, hip to hip. It was almost too tight for both of them, but Carl felt a strange relief that she was there with him. He felt her fingers lace with his, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. It was a long while, but they both fell asleep.

* * *

The run was post-poned until mid-morning, so the council could convene. Beth knew it had to be done, but her nerves were shot and she wanted to get on the road. She hadn't been out of the prison it felt since she arrived, and she was eager to get a little change of scenery. Sitting in her room, she quickly adjusted the '30 Days of No Accidents' to zero. It made her fingers shake to change the numbers.

That poor kid. Beth didn't even know him, had only seen him a handful of times when she had to go into the library and interrupt Storytime or when he was in the cafeteria, pestering Daryl or Rick about something or other. He seemed like a good kid, nice, kind of goofy with his galsses and that curly black hair. But he was dead, and they were all worried.

When she could no longer stand lingering in her cell, Beth stood and looped the large messenger back over her shoulder. It was empty, and she was planning to fill it with all the baby necessities she could find. Judith might not have been her's, but when Lori died and Beth stepped into her shoes, it felt like she was. Judith was her first priority, above herself and her sister and father. Little baby had no defenses, no way of taking care of herself. Of course she was at the top of the list.

Maggie was sitting outside, face turned up to the sunshine, and Beth joined her.

"Nervous?" Maggie asked, casting her sister a teasing look. Her short brown hair was poking out beneath an olive-green Military hat, face scrubbed clean. She seemed to flourish in the apocolypse, Beth thought. As pretty and capable as ever.

Beth shrugged. "A bit. Little excited."

"Good," Maggie said, slinging an arm around her baby sister's shoulder. She was proud that Beth was trying to step up, trying to follow in her footsteps. That was a good thing, They never could have enough fighters, people risking their lives for the safety of all. Bethy was growing up, and though Maggie wished she were helping her plan her dorm at college or instructing her on how to throw a proper punch if a guy was acting up, this was good, too.

"Mostly just happy to be getting out of here," Beth said quietly. "Get off baby duty for a little bit." Maggie smiled, knowing that while her sister loved little Judith, the strain of taking care of a baby was too much for most mothers to do on their own. Well, it took a village to raise a child, and Beth was just one young girl, wasn't she? _Maybe I should help more_, Maggie thought, but then Glenn slipped out into the sunlight and her thoughts turned selfish. Beth didn't miss the way her eyes raked over him, from head to toe, or the slow smile that split his face when he saw his woman. She rolled her eyes.

"Ya'll ready?" he asked, then leaned forward to press a kiss to Maggie's lips.

"Where's Daryl?" Beth asked, raising a hand to shield her eyes against the growing sunshine. It was going to be a warm one, but middle of summer Georgia was like that.

Glenn cast Beth an amused look. "Grabbing some Kevlar."

Beth opened her mouth to respond, but then rough black fabric was being pushed over her head. She let out a noise, half strangled and have startled. When her head popped through the hole, Daryl was grinning at her, far too happy to see her distressed. Immediately, her heart began racing in her chest and her cheeks flamed crimson.

"What the hell?" she asked, glancing down her body. "I don't think anyone is going to be shooting me," she added.

"No, but biters can't get through that," Daryl said pointedly. It was enough to sober her up. "So leave it on, and don't complain."

With Daryl's arrival, the four set off. Glenn, Maggie, and Beth would ride in the Hyundai, Daryl following on his brother's motorcycle. The idea of the redneck riding in the backseat of the car was hilarious, and for a moment of insanity, Beth giggled. He shot her a look before she quickly got into the car.

After last night, after that moment in her cell, Beth was feeling good. She was alive, a man had kissed her (or she kissed him - particulars didn't matter, because she felt his lips press upon her own and it was invigorating, electrifying, and tingly), and she was going to get out of the prison for a little bit. It was her birthday and Christmas all wrapped in one. She was excited. Even with the bulky Kevlar suit, which protected her but was uncomfortable. Even with her sister and Glenn making cow-eyes at each other from the front seat. Even with the uncertainty between herself and Daryl, because of course, after the kiss, they hadn't talked. Daryl had simply sent her a smoldering look before disappearing into the bowels of the prison, far, _far_ away from her.

She'd done the girliest thing possible. Collapsed onto her bunk, covering her burning face in her hands, and giggled, sighed, and laughed at the ridiculous situation. God, who would have thought that even _that_ continued after the apocolypse? But it had, and Beth was fluttery and anxious when she thought about what came next, what it meant.

Wasn't like Daryl Dixon was going to come 'round and ask her Daddy to take her on a date. Or tell her what he was feeling. That wasn't his style, and Beth was thankful. The idea of having a guy (and of course her mind pictured Daryl, in holey jeans and his sleeveless shirts) approaching Hershel Greene to take _her_ out was about as comfortable as having a walker slowly nibble on her toes.

Shaking off those thoughts, she settled into the backseat and gazed out the window. They passed through the reinforced gate and out into the dangerous territory beyond. The excitement that had been fluttering in her belly was slowly shifting into anxiety, worry - the barest flicker of fear. They were headed to a small town, an hour or two northeast, praying it wouldn't be looted to hell. They had plenty of folks to look after now, and the four of them had a lot to get - if the place was scavenged, they'd have to improvise. Beth didn't like the thought of that.

They were in luck. Glenn parked on the outskirts of town, in case they had compnay. Didn't want the car to stir up any attention. They made it on foot, each armed with a pistol (or crossbow) and knives. Beth felt uneasy as they made their way down the main strip of town. There was a small green grocer, a pharmacy, a diner, and a clothing boutique that looked to specialize in girls' wear. Not much, but hopefully enough. Beth swiped sweat from her brow and glanced towards Daryl, who walked cauticiously and purposefully, cool as a cucumber. Then again, he didn't have the extra Kevlar, and Beth was sweltering.

"Maggie and I will take the pharmacy," Glenn said, the four of them pausing on the sidewalk. A tattered American flag waved in the gentle breeze above their heads. "You and Daryl take the grocery store."

Beth nodded, seriously, and felt Daryl's hand on her elbow. He pulled her a few paces down the sidewalk, and she stepped over the trash that blew and scattered around their feet. The grocery store door was shut, locked, which instantly flooded her with relief. It was a good indication that no one had been there. Daryl shrugged out of his vest, wrapping it around his fist, and punched in the glass above the lock. He twisted it open, shook out his leather before slipping it back on. Beth watched him in an awed silence.

He was so... _Capable_. He knew what he was doing, he was confident. Beth felt a surge of appreciation for the rough man. Handsome, strong, and smart? That was a package deal, even before the world went to hell.

He lead the way into the store, keeping her close to his side. Beth was dragged from her thoughts as she picked her way carefully through the glass. It was eerily silent, and Daryl caught her eyes. "Don't hear nothin' - but lets do a sweep. Just in case." She wanted to ask if he was normally this cauticous on his lonesome, but kept the words in her mind. She didn't need to provoke anything now.

It was obviously a mom 'n pop place. The floors were red and white tile, the shelves were stocked with non-perishables and Hamburger helper. It was small and the aisles were close together. On one wall, there were waist high coolers filled with what _had_ been fresh meat and produce. Maybe there would be a deep freeze, with meat that they could take... Once satisfied that they were truly alone, Daryl said, "Grab whatever you can. If you think we need it, we probably do. Canned food, vegetables, anything. Everything." She nodded to show she understood, and went to the shelves.

Her bag was supposed to be for Judith, but she found herself sweeping her arms over the smooth metal to fill her bag. It was big, and it grew heavy fast. She'd taken all of the corn, greens, beans and tomatoes. They'd made great stock for soups and it was true that they could never have enough. She found a few boxes of cookes that hadn't expired yet, tossed them in as well. Daryl was half-way through all the Campbells when they was a low, stuttering groan.

Beth froze. Her shoulder was already aching from the weight of her finds, and if that noise belonged to a walker... She didn't think she could move fast enough to be much use. Blue eyes whipped around, searching for the sound, and her heart sank a little when she spotted what ha been an old woman, wearing a pink, ratty, bloodied housecoat. Maybe the previous owner?

"Got it," Daryl said. He was suddenly standing beside her, and he pulled out his hunting knife, big as Beth's forearm, and made quick work of sinking it into her eyesocket. The walker grumbled, then crumpled, and was truly dead. She let out a breath of relief.

"Still scares me, a little," Beth admitted, and Daryl smirked at her.

"That might not be a bad thing, girl." He pushed a strand off blonde from her face before returning to their mission.

It was a success. They'd had so much stuff that there wasn't much room left for Beth in the Hyuandai. Bags loaded with food, drugs, and clothes were bundled to the roof of the vehicle, and while they were all happy and safe, it would be a long ride home. It was dusk, the sky beginning to twinkle with stars, and Daryl was gonna have to take Beth on the bike with him. While the thought made him twitch pleasantly, having the pretty blonde girl wrapped around him on the Triumph, but... It also made him uncomfortable.

Last night, he kissed her. Like a goddamn fool. Let that little girl get into his mind, mess with his thoughts. The thought of another man taking care of her, looking after her, set a blaze to his blood that made him mad and posessive. She wasn't his, he didn't own her, and it wasn't that he wanted to... It was just. Well. He just didn't like that particular idea.

Her lips had been firm and soft at the same time, warm under his own. It wasn't passionate, it wasn't foreplay, it was a simple kiss between two grown people that made his heart race and his fingers twitch to grab her hips, pull him flush against him. Instead, he let them rest on her shoulders, feeling the delicate tendons and bones under her skin. Her's had found their way around him, holding onto his back. In his mind, he wanted to do so much more. Her scent invaded his senses, and when he pulled back his lips tasted like her.

"C'mon," he said now, pushing the thoughts of last night out of his mind. He was goddamn crazy, worse than Rick maybe, pushing himself on her like that.

_She didn't pull away. She didn't end it._

_"What's she want with a man like you? What ya gonna do for her, Darylena? Give her your ear necklace?" _Merle's voice, gruff and familiar even after death, invaded his mind. _"Girl like that deserves someone that's gon' give her flowers and all that bull shit. You ain't __**for**__ her."_

But she slipped behind him on the bike, wrapped her little hands around his middle and pressed herself against his back. Daryl didn't normally enjoy riding with someone behind him, but her light weight and heat were somewhat thrilling, somewhat a comfort. He felt her press her face against his shoulder, and he gunned the engine to life. With little more thought, he rode them off, following Maggie and Glenn at a safe distance.

It was peaceful. It was nice. Daryl had a wild idea of asking her to go for a ride again sometime, maybe see if they could sneak off together for a day... But stopped that dead in his tracks. Didn't need to be asking her to do nothin' and wasn't gonna. He felt her tap his shoulder, then point. With growing dread, his eyes landed on what she had seen too. A pickup truck was poised on a hill, headlights cutting through the darkness of the night.

"Shit," Daryl muttered. He felt her hands clenching at his chest, and while it was stirring up his body, it did nothing to soothe the wild turn in his heart. He placed a hand over both of her's, trying to keep her from clawing through his shirt, and Daryl felt her relax minutely. It was a good thing he'd let Maggie and Glenn go first, he thought. This way, the could distract whoever was up there from finding the prison.

* * *

**BUMBUMBUM! what could it be? who could it be? hopefully something non-threatening and deadly... just have to wait and see...**

**thank you for the reviews, the follows and the favorites. it's a beautiful thing to wake up to every morning. i'm so happy with the love for this story, so proud of myself haha. thank you all again. love, love, love you.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

"We gotta go up there," Daryl called, and Beth felt like the stupid girl in every awful slasher movie she'd ever seen. They were walking into the den of danger, walking into the killer's blade, offering themselves up. She was glad for the Kevlar, now, but terrified to her bones. Daryl wasn't as well protected, they didn't know who was up there, and she was less than thrilled at this turn in their day. It had gone so well - they found plenty of supplies, things that would come in handy in the months to come. Hopefully, they wouldn't need to make another run for a long time. It was good, too - her first trip being so successful, she wouldn't have to fight to go on another.

Now, though, she wasn't thinking about another run. She was thinking of making it home.

Daryl parked his bike at the edge of the dirt road, helped her off. Her legs felt weak, stiff, and she wasn't sure if it was from being on the bike for so long or fear. Without hesitation, she clasped Daryl's hand and followed him into the tall grass. His Horton was in his right hand, and Beth had the mind to rest her free hand on the blade of her knife. It wasn't big and intimidating like his bow, but Beth was certain she could inflict some damage if she needed to.

"What are you gonna say?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Gon' see what they want," Daryl said, shrugging. He wasn't the best spokes-man, but he would have to do. No way he would let _Beth_ approach them. Hell no.

The pair made their way quickly, eyes on the look-out for walkers and humans alike. The people from the truck - a man and a kid, it appeared - stepped out and had started to meet them half way. Daryl wasn't relieved just yet, but it was better than a one-eyed mad man with a machine gun. They met, keeping a few feet between them. The man wore orange reflective hunting gear, had a rifle in one hand, and the kid was a teenaged boy, also holding a fire arm. He had it raised and pointed at them.

"Evenin'," the man said, sounding cheerful.

"Hi," Beth replied. Daryl shot her a dark, warning look. He stepped carefully so she was half behind him, and surveyed the two men in front of them. Somewhere around fifty, with a cap of white hair and a bit of a beer belly, the man was not a bad-lookin' type. The kid, on the other hand, had metal in his lip and wore all black, those too-tight style pants the kids had been wearing before the world ended. Not exactly practical.

"Been a long time since we saw people," the man said. "I'm Hoss, this here's my boy. Kevin. We got a camp set up in the woods - up in the trees. You need sanctuary?"

They were offering them a place to stay? Daryl wasn't surprised often, but this was unexpected. Probably 'cause of Beth, people always wanted to be nice to pretty girls, 'specially a girl as pretty and sweet looking as Beth. But he wanted to keep her safe, and he knew that people who were particularly nice to pretty girls like Beth often had other things on their minds...

"Jus' passin' through," Daryl said levelly. "Thank you, though."

"Ya'll got a camp? You with those other people that came through?" Kevin asked. Daryl studied him for a long moment before nodding. "Good. Ya'll go on to them, and we'll go back to ours. C'mon Dad." He lowered his gun and turned.

"Sorry 'bout my boy. Don't like strangers," Hoss explained.

"Can't be too safe," Daryl said, by way of agreeing. _Smart kid_.

"Well, you know where to find us if ya need anything. Be safe," the man said, before following his son up the slope to their vehicle. Daryl was unsettled, but he didn't get a bad sense from the people. They weren't interested in him or Beth, didn't want to join up camps. Probably had the same idea as him. Less people to look after, less people to lose. Less people he had to trust.

"Weird," Beth mumbled, as they traipsed back. "Should we have taken them home?"

"They aren't strays," Daryl grunted. "Looks like they're takin' care of 'emselves. Leave 'em be." He felt her little hand slip into his, and resisted the urge to squeeze.

* * *

Carl and Lizzie were sitting outside, hidden on a ledge. It was a nice place, and Carl was only slightly irritated that he hadn't found it first. There was good cover, and it was easy to watch the drive from there. When Glenn and Maggie returned, without Daryl and Beth, Lizzie had practically tore his arm off.

"Where are they?" she cried, panicked eyes flicking to Carl. He knew that she was being dramatic, though she had lost a friend earlier that day. The whole prison was in an uproar. Hershel was certain it was some kind of super flu, that he'd expired thanks to a virus before turning due to another virus. They were lucky someone found him when they did, rather than have some teenaged walker running amuck in their home. He was burried with the others. It was a sad, somber day.

But Lizzie had suggested going to this secret spot, and Carl had obliged, feeling generous. He knew she needed distraction, and he was worried about the people out there. Glenn and Maggie and Daryl could take care of themselves, but Beth wasn't like them. She wasn't weak, exactly, but she was like a kitten. Thought she was a lot bigger, a lot tougher, than she was. But he was confident that Daryl would bring her home in one piece.

"Maybe they're... _ya know_." Carl shrugged, feeling his cheeks pinken. Lizzie smiled, one of the few he'd seen all day.

"I doubt it. I mean, where would they do it at? There's no beds out there."

"Don't need a bed," Carl mumbled. He knew that Maggie and Glenn, his parents, whoever else was getting it on didn't always have a bed available. He knew there were certain positions that allowed for people to be standing up when they did _it_. Beds were just a luxury.

"Well, when I have sex, it's gonna be a on a bed. A big canopy bed with silk sheets and candles and rose petals," Lizzie said firmly. "And it's _not_ going to be in some creepy old prison."

Carl gaped at her. She thought about it that much? In so much detail? She was only thirteen, for Christ's sakes! Shaking off the thought and the weird burning in his belly, he brought his binoculars to his eyes and peered down the dirt road that lead to their home. A few moments of silence passed, and Carl spotted them before the tell-tale roar of the Triumph reached their ears. He idly wondered if there was much commotion going on down below, wondering where the two were.

"Look," he said, handing her the binoculars. "They're fine. Fully clothed," he added with an eyeroll. Lizzie peeked at him sheepishly.

"Lets go down so we can see if they got any candy," Lizzie suggested. _From sex to candy_, Carl thought with a silent snort. She was so, so young.

* * *

Beth took to her cell, feeling exhausted. From the heavy lifting to the fear that gnawed at her throughout the day, she was tired. Stripping out of the Kevlar, she was a little glad to be alone. Daryl would tell them about the men in the truck, that they had a camp not too terribly far from their own. She understood his reasoning for not wanting to bring them back, understood his worry. She was glad that she had been with him today, and realized that if she had been here at the prison, she woulda been worrying her head off.

Before she fell into bed, she decided to take a shower. It was creepy, after that boy had died in there, but she knew it was silly. His ghost wouldn't be watching her, or anything. Beth grabbed a fresh set of pajamas, a baggy tank-top and a pair of boxer shorts, and made her way down the stairs and through the hallway to the bathroom. It was silent, and she was glad. Not that modesty was much of a concern, but she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Maggie and Glenn were probably off in their room, making love to celebrate their safe return.

Being around them, their passion, their love, was annoying. It was sweet and adorable and funny, sometimes, but mostly Beth found herself seething with jealousy. It wasn't fair - the world ended, and Maggie still got the guy. In school, she'd been popular, had lots of friends and boyfriends... She was a people person. Everyone loved her. Now, she had a great guy that really loved her, that put a ring on her finger and everything. Following traditions even though it didn't matter much anymore. Keeping up appearances so people felt normal.

Beth was jealous, again. Always in her sister's shadow, it seemed. Somethings never changed.

She stepped under the chilly spray after peeling off her sweaty, dirty clothes. It was refreshing, though not as relaxing as a hot shower would be. She washed her hair, twice, and lathered up a flannel before rubbing it over her body.

It wasn't like Beth and Maggie looked much alike - different mothers, and all. Maggie was tall, lean and strong, with curves in the right places and green eyes that were cat-like, clever. Beth was short, thin, with a boyish build. Her breasts were small, her hips were wider than she would have preferred, bottom full. Her legs were long, and they were her favorite feature on herself. Not that she showed them off much, because who was she kidding? It was the apocolypse, not fashion week. No one cared what she wore, long as all the necessary parts were covered.

Humming under her breath, Beth didn't notice the shadow at the doorway. It wasn't until there was a clatter of plastic hitting tile that she realized she wasn't alone, and she whipped around to find Daryl Dixon standing there, blue eyes bugging out of his skull. He still had a smudge of dirt above his eyebrow, from earlier in the day, and judging by the bottle of shampoo at his feet, he was getting ready to clean himself up.

But Beth was there, and naked and wet. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, at a loss as to what to say. Finally, she settled with, "Daryl!" And stomped her foot. One arm covered her meager chest, the other attempting to shield her womanhood. The cold spray hitting her upper shoulders was forgotten when she saw the appraising look on Daryl's face.

She _felt_ his cornflower blue eyes sweeping over her, from wet hair to wet little toes, lingering on the secret place between her shapely thighs. He seemed shocked, rooted to the spot, and she realized that _he_ wasn't going to do anything. Rolling her eyes, she stepped out of the spray, glad she was rinsing off the soap when she'd been caught, and grabbed her towel.

"You _do_ realize that it's really rude to stand there and stare, right?" she asked, anger flaring in her chest. Yeah, she realized that due to malnourishment, being on the road, stress, _everything_, she was slender to the point of painfully thin, that she didn't have the curves of a grown woman. He was probably wondering if she really _was_ a kid, after seeing her naked. Wondering if he was going to hell after their kiss last night. There was a patch of light blonde hair between her legs, proof that she was a woman, and while her breasts were tiny, they were still there. How one man could be so infuriating without saying a word, Beth would never understand.

"Sorry," Daryl said, slowly. He blinked a few times, seemed to gather himself. His cheeks were pink beneath his tan and the dirt. God, he was losing his mind. It didn't help that he hadn't seen a naked woman in a very, very long time. Especially one as attractive as Beth. "I - uh, I didn't mean -"

"Its fine," Beth said, waving her hand. "Not like theres much to see, anyway." In only her towel, she ducked around him, clutching clothes and her shower things to her chest. When she was gone, Daryl took a deep, unsteady breath, and continued into the showers. His mind was not on the men they met earlier, the success of their run, or the kid that'd died this morning. Instead, all he could see was Beth fucking Greene.

He switched on the water in the spot she had vacated. Her soap was on the floor, along with her wash-cloth, and Daryl groaned. He never wished to be an inanimate object so badly. When he'd walked into the shower, he'd been so distracted - hadn't even really heard her humming 'til he laid eyes on her. Back to him, his eyes flashed to those dimples above her ass, and then lower... He'd always loved a girl with hips and a full bottom, and Beth's did not disappoint. He could imagine grabbed the flesh, how it would feel soft and smooth in his hand. Perfect, palm-sized ass that would fit his hand naturally. Then down to her long, slender legs. Could wrap those around his waist, push 'em up on his shoulders... It was dizzying, all of the images that invaded his mind. Even Merle was silent this time, probably just as in awe as he was.

His cock was hard in his jeans, and he pulled his clothes off hurriedly before jumping under the spray. It was cold, but it was water, and Daryl hoped it would calm him down. His entire body was ablaze, hot and lusty. He wanted nothing more than to grab that girl, spin 'er 'round and press his lips against her's again. Feel her small breasts under his hands, taste her skin. Wanted to leave a big ol' hickey on her sweet little throat. _Fuck_.

Daryl tried to keep his hands off his dick, but it was impossible. No way he could see that - see _her_ like _that_ - without getting some release. He soaped up his hands, letting one pretend to do some washing, and the other... He wrapped it around the base of his cock, hissing at the pleasure that zipped through him. From his belly, it spread over his entire body. It had been a long time since Daryl had done this, had time to please himself. He woke up with morning wood and felt like a goddamn teenager when the wind blew sometimes, but there wasn't much time, or privacy. He was glad that he had all the mental stimuli - the visual of a dripping wet Beth Greene, even with her hands trying to hide her femininity, was more than enough. He pumped himself a few times, slowly, before twisting his fist over the head. He wasn't the biggest, but he was well above average, thick, and Daryl knew that was just as important.

Daryl thrusted against his palm, glorying in the delicious friction. He wondered for a moment what Beth would look like, naked on her knees in front of him. His hips arched suddenly, and he growled as his seed shot out. His toes curled and he swore, whispered, "Beth," with his eyes squeezed shut. Just that image of her left him panting in the aftermath. It was embarrassingly fast, and he was glad that he was alone. His shoulders were relaxed as he finished his shower, washing his hair and the rest of his body until the water ran clear.

Once it looked like he was finished, Beth stole away from the doorway, hair dripping down the back of her T-shirt. Two could play at this game.

* * *

**And there you have it, the first reason for me to rate this M. It's going to get more M from this point forward, so beware. If you don't like sexy naked shower Dixon, then you aren't going to like the rest of this story. A bit of a plot has cropped up, but it's good. I'm figuring this story will end at maybe 25-30 chapters, and it's going to be a long, sexy ride. I'm hoping that you are all still on board, and I really hope you enjoy what's to come. I am so proud of this work, more proud of any other fanfiction I've written. Bethyl just seems to inspire me, and I can't keep the words from flowing. I'm working round the clock, between shifts, and up in the middle of the night. I've even missed a few episodes of Doctor Who (which is absolutely apalling) for this story, so you guys had better appreciate it!**

**Please, please, review. It makes this all worth while. Find me on tumblr - idreamoffrankie - and keep up with my personal updates as well as the sexy Norman Reedus pictures. All of the follows and favorites and reviews make this all worth while, make it easier for me to blow off my friends to write instead of going to the pub. So again - thank you. THANK YOU. I love you, beautiful people. **

**(again, review. give me suggestions, speculations, and encouragement. i'd love you forever for it.)**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

In her cell, Beth worked the knots out of her hair and turned over the events of her shower in her mind. Well, not _her_ shower. Daryl's. She had planned on stomping back to her room, embarrassed and dripping, but the idea of fair play was too tempting. She was just going to peek, get a glance of him like he did of her. However, a simple glance was not enough. She was rooted to her spot, staring at the naked man. One of the _only_ naked men she had ever seen. Her face was beat red but her eyes refused to look away.

Especially when she realized that his... _penis_ was hard. Though penis was too weird and silly of a word, Beth realized. That thing looked as dangerous as his Horton. The thought made her grin insanely. And when he started _touching it_, her mouth went dry and her brain when silent. Fascination, curiosity and lust flooded her, dousing her like a bucket of water over the head. She couldn't have stopped looking if she tried, and immediately began to lose whatever irritation she had with him ogling her. She supposed seeing another naked person was kind of... Distracting. Hard to look away from.

When he orgasmed, she heard her name leave his lips. It was a husky, whispered sound, and Beth knew it was time to go. She blushed scarlet and darted away, but the images weren't so quick to leave. Now, alone in her room, brushing out her long hair, she was still blushing, but there was also some tingling and warmth creeping down her thighs and up her belly, stemming from her most private parts.

She was on fire. Beth had never had sex, barely rounded second base with Jimmy, but that was more of an accident than anything, really. She'd never masturbated, as it was a sin, but in this day and age... Well, she had stopped counting her sins a long time ago.

Rick had taken baby Judith and her crate for the evening. It was a relief to see him making more of an effort with the child, and a relief to have the room all to herself. It did feel empty, without her, but Beth took advantage. She shut off the light, slipped under her covers, and took a deep, anxious breath. She had never really touched herself, down there, aside from some young self exploration when she was a lot younger. Now, her fingertips grazed over the soft thatch of hair, feeling the wetness that had nothing to do with her shower evident on her lips. She slipped a finger softly between them, gasping at the bolt of electricity that coursed through her. There was a small nub, and she found when she brushed her fingers over it... It felt really, _really_ good.

Awkwardly, her hips thrust against her fingers. She was self-concious, but it was fading as the feelings and sensations of her fingers on herself intensified. It felt like liquid fire spreading through her veins. She noted that her toes were curling into her soles, that her breath was coming quicker, and it felt like each inhale was bringing her closer to an edge. Two fingers rubbing that spot now, Beth blinked and then squeezed her eyes shut. She clenched her thighs together tightly, thinking of Daryl's big hands on his big ... _Horton_, the strokes of his hand from tip to base, and the way his hips hitched foward. She liked it, and licked her lips, replaying the moment when he whispered her name.

With a startled cry, she was pushed over the edge. It was dizzying, it was thrilling, her body twitching and her inner muscles clenching. It was amazing. It was... Panting, Beth wiped her damp fingers on the hem of her T-shirt before turning on her side, facing the wall.

_No wonder Maggie and Glenn are always doing that_, Beth thought sleepily, before drifting off.

* * *

Daryl was feeling a bit better, after his shower and a full night's sleep. Slept like a damn baby, actually. Thought he might have to do it again soon. He stood and stretched, feeling the familiar burn in his muscles before he pulled on his shoes and vest and draped his bow across his shoulder. Felt naked without it, anymore. He patted his pockets for the pack of cigarettes he'd found and opened - found a couple cartons, actually, would be set for a nice while. He wandered outside; it was too early for breakfast, though Carol was surely up and in the kitchens working on it.

Didn't know what to think about Beth Greene now. Saw her naked in the shower, seen practically _all_ of her lithe, slender body. Maybe she was too skinny, he mused. But there was meat on her bones in the places he liked... Very much liked.

He was surprised to see Carl Grimes up and about, walking the perimeter of the inner fence. There weren't any walkers clinging to the chainlink, which set Daryl's shoulders at ease. He ambled down to the young man.

He and Carl had a kind of understanding. Tough kid, been through a lot of rough times. If Daryl had a kid, especially at a time like this, he wasn't sure how he would handle it. Hopefully not as badly as Rick... Carl nodded at him in greeting, and Daryl grunted a reply. He lit his cigarette and pocketed the lighter. It was a nice Zippo he'd picked up along the way. Kid was growing fast, he realized. Taller now, losing that boyish quality and roundness in his cheeks. Still freckled, in need of a haircut, and nowhere close to closing in on Daryl's height.

"Heard about that kid," Daryl said, and Carl's eyes snapped to him immediately. They were steely dark in the sunrise. Realizing his mistake, Daryl specified, "The sick kid. The one that died yesterday."

"Yeah," Carl said. His eyes scanned the horizon, and Daryl thought he saw a blush on the kids cheeks. _Strange reaction_. He didn't comment. "We weren't close. But it's still... y'know." Carl shrugged his gangly shoulders and leaned a hand against the fence.

"Saying goodbye ain't never a good thing," Daryl agreed. He exhaled a lungful of smoke and sighed.

"Beth do good yesterday? On the run?" Carl asked. Dammit, did it always have to come back to her? Wide, startled blue eyes framed by wet blonde hair entered his mind.

"Good," Daryl said. "She did real good."

Carl smiled at this. "I'm glad. Needs to do more than take care of the baby and help with chores. She's a strong person - stronger 'n a lot of people think."

Daryl was inclined to agree, but he didn't out loud. He kept his face controlled, the calm mask that he wore day in and day out. No thoughts were revealed. He liked it better that way - no one asking him if he was all right, no one approaching him for conversation. He'd rather be the one doin' the approaching. Sometimes he enjoyed company, but most times, he didn't.

Carl chewed his lip thoughtfully. "My friend Lizzie -" he cut his sentence, started again, "This girl, Lizzie. Well, she thinks..." He trailed off, cheeks growing redder by the second. Daryl would have laughed, if the kid didn't look so damn serious. "She thinks you and Beth... Well, y'know. 'Cause she came back on your bike and all that."

Daryl felt his jaw drop open. "That what everyone's sayin'?"

"No, no! She's just a kid. A _dumb_ kid," Carl added under his breath. "She thinks that it's like some soap opera, puttin' people together and all that. It's annoying."

"Girls are like that," Daryl replied. He was still flummoxed at what Carl said. Yes, he was attracted to Beth, and while he had even told her that he wouldn't and _couldn't_ say goodbye to her, that didn't mean... It didn't mean that something was going on between them. The look of disdain and irritation when she had caught him staring, the tone of her voice - not just the words - richoceted through his brain like a gunshot. It was pretty obvious that she didn't want nothin' to do with him, not in that sense. Ok, they kissed, but... _Damn_. Daryl didn't know what to make of any of it.

"They're so - just so -" Carl searched for the right word before shaking his head. "I told her she was crazy. Just so you know."

Daryl smirked and nodded. "Thanks, kid. Better get 'long now for breakfast." Carl nodded, and headed up the gentle slope to the prison. Daryl had a sinking suspicion that this Lizzie girl was the one that had confronted him the in the hallway. Had to give her credit, she had some balls - but she was also very misguided. He pitched his cigarette and decided to take his own advice and grab some grub. Certainly, there would be things for him to attend to later in the day, and he wasn't 'bout to do it on an empty stomach.

* * *

"What did you say to him?" Lizzie asked, making Carl jump in surprise. She was standing right inside the open doorway, hands on her narrow hips and foot tapping. It was the first time he'd ever seen her without that ugly floral vest on, and he smiled in surprise.

"I didn't say anything interesting, trust me," Carl replied. He kept on walking, and she followed behind him, nearly treading on his boots. "Just man stuff, y'know?"

"Ugh," Lizzie said, throwing her hands in the air. "You are so _not helpful_!"

"What's it matter, anyway? Why is it so important to _you_ if they get together?" Carl asked, frowning at her. She gave him a wide-eyed, innocent look, but he wasn't buying it. "You told me it gave you hope, right? But there are other things... Religion," he added, though he wouldn't blame her if she wasn't Christian. He could understand not having faith after the things they'd all been through. But she didn't know Beth or Daryl, hadn't been through everything with them as Carl had. For a long time, Beth had been his best friend - after Sophia... Daryl was a good guy too. Carl loved them, both of them, like family. They _were_ family.

"I just thought," Lizzie said weakly, twisting the hem of her shirt between nail-bitten fingers. "That they would be happy together. I want them to be happy. I want _everyone_ to be happy." She looked ashamed, almost, to admit it. "It does give me hope, Carl. And after what happened to Patrick, there's no time. It's not fair." Her voice trembled, and Carl could make out tears in her amber gaze. "It's not fair that Patrick won't get older, won't meet a girl and fall in love. It's not fair!" Carl could sense that she was about to lose it, and rather than have her fall apart right out in the open, he wisely pulled her into an empty cell on the first floor. Twice in as many days, he was holding her in his arms and letting her weep. It was strange, but he was getting better. Good practice for Judith, he supposed.

"You're right," Carl said, after patting her back for a while. Her face was red and splotchy, and he idly wished for a handkerchief or something to give her. Instead, he continued. "It is really unfair. But it's not fair that my sister won't meet her mom, or that we lost Sophia and Carol _still_ manages to go on, every day, even though her heart is broken. None of it is _fair_, Lizzie. But that's life. That's how it was before, and that's how it is now." Hesitantly, he wiped a tear from her cheek. "You just gotta... Mourn. You gotta let yourself feel it all, and then you gotta get up and move on. It's what you do. _We_ do."

Lizzie nodded, and her color was returning to normal. "Thanks," she mumbled. "Sorry I um, freaked out. It's just so much sometimes."

Carl nodded. "I know. It's ok."

The two exited the cell, and Lizzie glanced at him again. It was a different look now, pink cheeks, puckered pout, wide eyes. He felt guilty now for dismissing her earlier, not telling her what he and Daryl spoke about. He decided to tell her, at least the bits about Beth and him. "They _aren't_ together, ya know."

"Not yet," Lizzie agreed. She seemed to perk up at this. "But I think we're getting warmer. If I could just figure out how to push them together..."

"Maybe we should just let 'em be," Carl said. He didn't want Daryl - or Beth for that matter - finding out that he had any part of this.

"Don't be a wuss, Grimes," Lizzie said. She winked before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving him standing alone with a surprised expression. How could she flip moods so quickly? He shook his head, feeling whiplashed from her ups and downs, but headed into grab some food as well. The day he'd had so far, he'd probably need it.

* * *

She was avoiding him. Upon waking, Beth clung to the warm, comfortable dream until it was just wisps of smoke. Then she was up, dressing, until she remembered the events of the last twenty-four hours. Daryl saw her naked; she saw _him_ naked; and she... _touched_ herself. Instantly, her cheeks were flaming, and she considered diving back under the blankets and hiding until the embarrassment faded. But that wasn't a choice - she'd have to get Judith back from Rick, and surely there were other chores that needed her help. Groaning and feeling like a petulant child, Beth threw her hair into a high, messy bun, and reluctantly made her way down to the main room.

Hershel grinned when he saw her, and she smiled in return. He was in good spirits after the big haul yesterday. They'd found many medical supplies that would certainly come in handy, and that made him feel better about the coming winter. With the flu that was coming 'round... They needed all the help the could get.

Carol was dishing out grits and Beth smiled, thanked her, before finding a spot. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn't realize that she'd sat down across from Daryl, and they were the only occupants of the table.

_Oops._ She was hoping to avoid seeing him for as long as possible... And yet here they were, silently staring at each other, both surprised. Beth licked her lips, noted that Daryl's eyes darted to her mouth, then smiled. Ah, yes. She surged with power, flushed with it, remembering his broken whisper of her name last night in the shower. _He wanted her_.

"Mornin'," she said sweet-as-pie. He grunted in reply, but his clean face was pink and she smiled. This was strange. Beth had never had hard evidence (she giggled at her own pun) that a man had liked her, other than Jimmy, but he wasn't much of a man. Yet here was Daryl Dixon, epitome of the male species. He cursed, drank, smoked, killed things and took pleasure in it. And he thought of her when he jerked off. She felt almost weak at the thought. The heat between her thighs was like last night, only duller, but she clenched her legs together tightly. "Sleep well?"

Daryl looked so awkward it was almost painful. He couldn't keep his eyes off her for more than a moment, but he also could hardly meet her gaze. He was looking all over, at her, back to the cieling or the floor after a second. He nodded to her question though. That was good enough.

"I'm not mad, y'know," Beth said, spooning her grits to her mouth. She gazed at him through her lashes, then blew on the bite even though it wasn't that hot anymore. His lips twitched in response. "Bout last night? I mean, it was an accident."

"Right," Daryl agreed, nodding. Beth flashed him a small smile, and slowly pulled her spoon from between her lips. He cleared his throat and shifted.

"I just wanted you to know that," Beth said softly. She reached across the narrow table and curled her fingers around his hand. His fist was wrapped around his spoon tightly, knuckles white. She almost felt bad, suddenly - he seemed very distressed. Then she remembered that she was touching the hand he had used to please himself last night, and blush tinged her cheeks.

Daryl glanced at her hand on his, and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He didn't know what to say, what to do. She was so _fucking_ pretty, it hurt him to look at her, but it was worse to look away. After last night, he supposed he would never see her the same way again. Not a little girl anymore. Full grown woman, one that he had briefly kissed, held her hand. What the fuck was he doing? He needed to leave, _now_. Maybe leave the prison entirely... But he knew he couldn't before the thought was fully fleshed. No, he wouldn't leave them. Even with Beth tempting him like the devil tempted Christ from the cross.

"Daryl?" Her voice saying his name was enough to make him hard. "Are you ok?"

"Fine," he said, gritting his teeth. He wanted to yell at her, push her away and tell her to stop messing with his mind. It'd get her off his back, that was for damn sure... But Daryl knew that he couldn't, wouldn't hurt her. Not Beth. Never her. "Watch duty." He glanced from where she held his hand to her face, begging her to let him go. She smiled, and the room was instantly ten degrees hotter. She squeezed his hand before letting go, and nodded.

"I'll see you around," she said, smiling secretively. Daryl stood, took his plate with him. His tense body instantly relaxed as soon as he was away from her. This was bad - very, very fucking bad - but he didn't know what to do. His body wanted her, but his mind knew that it could - most definitely _would_ - end very badly. Sighing, feeling more agitated than he had in a while, Daryl headed to the guard tower for his shift. Just what he needed, a long stretch of time with nothing to do but think about golden blonde hair and wide blue eyes...

* * *

**Sorry about the delay. Would have updated sooner, but... Life and stuff. Y'know. Anyway, I ****received so many lovely reviews from all of you fantastic folks. I was so ecstatic! And one particular reviewer said I converted them into a Bethyl shipper. I would say my work here is done, but I've still got these two stubborn kids to get together... (of course, I'm like ten chapters ahead, so I know when and where and how... MWAHAHAH).**

**Also, HAPPY HALLOWEEN! I hope you guys get lots of treats and tricks, if that's your thing. No judging.**

**Please review. It makes the naked Daryl scenes happen faster :p**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Can I hold her?" Lizzie asked Beth. She had come to her cell again, hoping to spend some time and do a little meddling. After this morning, crying all over Carl, she was more determined to keep up her game. They sat together at breakfast, even if it was only for a few minutes. But it was a start.

"Sure," Beth said, smiling brightly. She hefted the baby into Lizzie's arms, then returned to her folding. It was quiet today, with folks sticking close and worrying about the flu that was going around. Beth was trying to keep Judith segregated from the general population, but Lizzie was a clean little girl and she knew that there was nothing that could stop the virus if it wanted one of them. Plus, Lizzie had seemed so sad lately - Beth knew her to be a bubbly, bright girl buzzing around the cell blocks like a hummingbird. Holding the baby, she seemed to be in a livelier mood than that morning.

"Can I ask you something?" Lizzie said a few moments later. Beth glanced up from her's and Judith's laundry, nodding. "How can you tell if a guy likes you?"

Smiling, Beth realized that this was how Maggie must have felt when they were growing up. Beth always wanted to be the big sister, rather than the little, and was happy that the younger girl was comfortable enough to ask her. Then again, who else did she have? Carol? Beth couldn't imagine asking the woman for relationship advice, though she was probably better suited for it than Beth. She had one boyfriend, and he was dead. This thing with Daryl was... Complicated, at best, and putting the term relationship on it felt hasty to her.

"Well... A lot of the time, they'll act different around you. What does he normally act like?" Beth asked. She was navigating murky waters. Hopefully it wouldn't bite her on the butt.

"He's kind of mean," Lizzie replied after a moment of thought. She brushed her honey hair from her face with one hand, while holding Judith with the other. "Sometimes, he is. He tells me I'm crazy, too. But sometimes... Well, sometimes he can be the nicest person I've ever met."

"Boys act mean to girls that they like, sometimes," Beth said slowly. She sat on the edge of her bunk, hands pressed to her knees. "What else?"

"He's nice to me when I cry in front of him," Lizzie said. "He held my hand one time, and we've hugged... I don't know. Sometimes, when I think about him, I feel like I'm going to explode. He makes me mad and happy and like I _am_ going crazy!"

"I know how you feel," Beth admitted. She gazed at her hands, thinking of Daryl. She hadn't seen him the rest of the day, but her thoughts often returned to him. Making a bottle, changing a diaper, folding laundry, talking to Lizzie - it was enough to make her positively batty. But her heart would beat hard in her chest, and her hands would tremble. Beth was coming to terms with the fact that she was wanted, and that she wanted him in return. It was all nice and fine to admit it to herself, but what would she _do_ about it?

"Do you like someone?" Lizzie asked. Beth softened, smiled.

"I - I guess I do," she said, nodding.

"Does he like you back?" Lizzie pressed. Her expression was adorable, full of excitement and hope.

"I think so..." Beth sighed, rolling her eyes. "It doesn't matter. He's older than me, and he's meaner than a junk yard dog sometimes. Just because there's this - attraction," she chose the word carefully, "doesn't mean that anything is going to happen."

"But if you like each other, why don't you just, y'know, make a move? Kiss him?" It sounded so simple coming from her young mouth. _Oh, of course. Why didn't I think of that? Just walk right up to him, grab him by his bow strap, and plant a big one on him. Yeah, right._ Instead of replying, she shrugged.

"Its different with grown-ups," Beth explained. "Nothing is simple, really."

"Same for kids," Lizzie replied, a bit defensively. "But we ain't got time for being shy. Ain't got time to just sit and wait for things to happen - you gotta _make_ them happen."

With a surprised smile, Beth nodded. Thirteen year old's wisdom was not something she could normally get on board with, but Lizzie was right. She would be old and gray and eating other people before Daryl Dixon made a move on her. She was going to have to go to him, if she wanted something to happen...

A sudden realization of yes, she _did_ want something to happen washed over her. She froze, eyes wide in panic. She wanted Daryl Dixon, and she was going to do something. There was no way of denying it now, and her palms started to grow clammy.

"Like I said," Lizzie said sagely, handing a distracted Beth the baby. "Just gotta go and take what you want, right? Else it'll slip right through your fingers."

* * *

Daryl lay in the darkness of his cell, hands folded on his stomach. He was bone-tired, dogged, but his damned mind wouldn't shut off. It was like that, sometimes. Only instead of the heavy guilt he felt for his brother, the shame and grief and anger that normally plagued him when he lay in his narrow jail bed, his mind was again on Beth Greene. He was cursing her and worshiping her, evenly.

He'd never been so torn in his life. Part of him wanted nothing more than to be mean to her, snap at her and swear and tell her to leave him the hell alone. Nothin' good was gonna come from the two of them together - they were like night and day, and Daryl didn't think her sweet, innocent light would hold up with his tortured, angry past. There were some things that just didn't go together. Beth was an angel, a beautiful young woman with so much to give. Daryl had never been so simple, so gentle, so giving. He couldn't be. Wouldn't have lasted long in the Dixon household if he was.

But at the same time, Daryl knew that he couldn't turn back now. There was too much tension for things to lay still, to be forgotten. If he'd never kissed her, never saw her naked, wet body in the shower, it might be easier to cut his losses. But not now, not when he knew what was beneath her jeans and tank tops, not when he knew she tasted sweet and soft. He wanted to sweep her into his arms, hold her tightly against him and feel every inch of her body on his. She was so beautiful, so sweet and so loving. He wished that he deserved any of her attention, and of her loving.

"Daryl!" He flinched, startled from his thoughts, leaning into a sitting position. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted in shadow, was Beth. He groaned and flopped back onto his bed, covering his face with his hands.

"Go 'way," he grumbled. She giggled and stepped into his room. It was sparse, just the bed and his Horton leaning against the wall, two inches away, just in case. Maybe he was asleep, having one of those dreams again. Except in his dreams, he would never turn her away.

"Hey," she whispered, perching on the edge of his bed. She grasped his hands and pulled them off his face. He rolled his face towards her, gazing into her dark blue eyes. _Why_ was she doing this? Torturing him? He wanted to shake some sense into her. Maybe needed to be bent over his knee and spanked like a child. Then again... Having her over his knee with her ass up in the air sounded more like a present for him than punishment for her.

"What're ya doin' here?" he found himself asking.

She didn't reply. Instead, she leaned forward. The tips of her long blonde hair tickled his cheeks, and then her lips were upon his. Soft, almost shy, he would have described it. She smelled clean and sweet, like yellow cake with white frosting. His favorite. Her small hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs rubbing his stubble. She handled him like glass, like a newborn kitten. Delicately.

A low rumble sounded in his chest, and his hands had a mind of their own as one tangled in the hair at the back of her head, the other on the side of her throat. She was warm, hot under his hands, and he angled his face to deepen the kiss. He wanted to taste her - and he sure as hell wasn't gonna pass up another oppurtunity to do so. Didn't matter if it was a dream, or if she'd lost her damn mind, coming here in the middle of the night. All that mattered was the pressure of her lips on his, the shy way her tongued curled against his, and the soft, quiet noises she made as they kissed.

He pulled her down, tight against him, and she wiggled herself so that her thighs straddled his stomach. There was a blanket between them, but Daryl swore he could feel the heat radiating from her middle. Between those shapely thighs...

Her teeth nipped his top lip, making his groan. She pulled back, smiling briefly before kissing her way across his jaw, down his throat. He let one hand stray, running down the length of her back to where those dimples hid. She was wearing a loose T-shirt and pajama shorts, and his thumb traced lightly over one indentation as she suckled and bit his skin. He shoulda been pushing her away, should have been telling her to get the hell away from him. But she felt and tasted and sounded too good. He tugged on her hair, pulling her up so that their lips were sealed against each other.

Been a long time since he made out with a pretty girl. Been even longer since he felt his body hum with lust and electricity, since he was so hard that he feared he would bust out of his britches. He couldn't keep his hands from roaming all over her slender body.

"Daryl," she whimpered, mouth hovering above his. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were hooded. He couldn't believe that she was in his cell, in his bed, with her body pressed against his and her lips teasing him. He coulda pinched himself - it was too nice. "Please."

_Please what?_ But he understood. He slid a hand beneath her shirt, feeling the soft skin of her tummy. He could have counted her ribs as he went further, until his fingertips grazed the underside of her breast. Her breath hitched, and his eyes found her's in the darkness. She was watching him, and her mouth was open. She breathed heavily with anticipation.

"Yes," she hissed, when his thumb grazed her nipple. It was small and pebbled beneath his finger, and he strummed it lightly, enjoying the way her back arched, pressing her lower half into him. Wasn't barely a handful, but that was more than enough for him. When her moaning got a bit loud, he kissed her hard and swallowed her sounds. When his hand found it's way between her legs, feeling the warm moisture on her shorts, he could have fainted. His stomach clenched and his dick pressed harder against his pants, straining to get out, get some attention.

She stilled when his hand landed on his target, and he pressed up firmly. Her eyes were big saucers of blue as she gazed down at him. Obviously, she had never been touched like that before, and the realization made him shut his eyes tight and groan. Had to stop, had to stop before it went too far. Before he couldn't stop...

Using all of his strength and will power, Daryl dragged his hand from her crotch and grabbed her arms. Her lips were swollen and shiny, and he'd messed her hair up a bit when they'd been kissing. She looked luscious, seductive - insanely pretty - on top of him. He almost lost his resolve when she shifted and pressed down on his erection.

"You go on, girl," he said, giving no room for argument. Beth nodded, biting her lip. He liked it, a lot, when she did that. Before she stood, Daryl pressed a soft, whisper-light kiss to her temple, smoothed her hair back from her face.

"Goodnight," she whispered. Beth cast him a lingering look before leaving. Daryl fell back onto his ragged pillow with a heavy sigh. His body was reacting to her, protesting her absence. One thing was certain, he realized with a weary frown. Things were set in motion now, and there was no going back.

* * *

**since it's halloween and all, thought i'd let you guys get a little lime treat. also, i feel guilty for not updating yeseterday.. plus, things are going to start happening, and i'm going to need ya'll to just bear with me. hold on to your butts! **

**so read, review, favorite, follow. it means so much to me! **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Lizzie was waiting, in what had been _her_ spot but had become _their's_, with a ration of cookies that had come from the last run. It'd been a long time since she'd had cookies, and even if they were only Pecan Sandies, they were good. She had Carl's share in one hand, and slowly munched on one, savoring it. Finally, she heard him approach, and twisted around to squint at him. Her jaw nearly hit the floor when she saw that he had a gun on a belt around his waist.

"What?" he asked, flopping down beside her.

"Um," she said, wide eyes flicking to his belt. "You - you have a _gun_?"

"Of course I have a gun," Carl said, rolling his eyes up. "How else am I gonna be able to protect us?" Lizzie blushed, but knew that by 'us' he didn't mean the two of them, necessarily. He meant everyone. "With everyone gettin' the flu and dyin' and turnin' into walkers, Dad thought it was finally time to give it back."

Oh. _Duh_. The last day had found many of their numbers takin' to their beds. They'd quarantined the sick into a cell block, and things were really looking bleak. A few people had died, mostly the older folks that were weak to begin with. Patrick had only been the first, and Lizzie was beginning to grow truly fearful of what was going on. Admittedly, it was good that Carl had protection. No telling when they might really need it.

"So whats up?" he asked her, and she sighed. Ever since her conversation with Beth the other day, she'd been waiting for the perfect moment to talk to Carl. Talk to him... or _kiss_ him. It was just like she told Beth. Especially now, with the sickness going around. It was now or never, do or die. She didn't know if Beth had taken her advice, but Lizzie thought she was smart enough to take her own.

"Got you cookies," Lizzie said, offering them to him. Smiling, he accepted and crammed a whole one in his mouth. She giggled and shook her head. He was the cutest guy in the entire world, she thought. Not that there was a lot of competition, but she felt that even before the walkers started eating them up, she would have had a crush on him. There was something strong, something fierce about him, even if he didn't say too much. He also held all of the qualities that she found admirable in a person - he cared about them, the people of the prison, and their safety. He was responsible, he was smart, and he always was nice to her when she really needed it. She was praying that he was the _nicest_ today.

"Saw Daryl and Beth earlier," Carl said, once he'd swallowed his sweets. Lizzie smiled, encouraging him. He looked at her suspiciously - her reaction was off. But he went on. "They were arguin' about something - couldn't catch what, but... Thought you'd wanna know." He shrugged.

"Interesting," Lizzie said, dismissively. The sun was high overhead, and warm on her shoulders. She had worn her favorite pink tank-top, letting her tan arms show, and the little bit of chest too. Her hair was down, and while she wished that she had a straightener to make it shine and look neater, she'd made do. Lip-gloss completed her look. She didn't know what she had expected - Carl wasn't going to say anything about her appearance, but it made her feel stronger, more confident, when she looked in the bathroom mirror.

"Are you feelin' all right?" Carl asked. He raised a hand to her her forehead, and her face burned at the contact. It wasn't unpleasant. "Feels kinda warm."

"I'm ok," Lizzie said. "I just - there's something I wanted to tell you, Carl..." She glanced down at her knees, scraped up from running around with Mika in the fields. She took a deep breath, and closed her eyes, before turning her whole body to face him. He was gazing at her, uneasy and anxious, probably thinking the worst. She gave him a small smile.

"What is it? It's bad, isn't it?" Carl asked, beginning to panic. "Is it Judith? Is it my Dad?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. She tucked her hair behind her ears. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and her palms were beginning to sweat. She wiped them on her jeans and cleared her throat. She was about to confess, about to tell him that she _liked him_, that she thought about him all day long and sometimes it made her stomach feel weird. Seeing the worry in his eyes, the furrow of his brow and the smattering of freckles on his neck and cheeks... His lips were chapped, and she couldn't stop staring at them for a few seconds.

Her body reacted without her mind. Instead of saying anything, she leaned forward and pressed her lips on his mouth. It wasn't like in the movies. He didn't crush her in his arms, or touch her face. Instead, they were both wide-eyed, staring at each other with their lips touching. It was the weirdest - and best - thing she had ever experienced.

They broke apart quickly, both blushing like mad. When they were both over the embarrassment enough to look at each other, Lizzie couldn't help erupting into giggles. She was alive, she'd had her first kiss, and Carl looked like he didn't mind very much at all. It was a good day, and she was definitely right. Hopefully, it worked as well for Beth as it did for her...

* * *

She'd come to his room, crept into his bed, and made her move. Beth was surprised and pleased with her actions - she wasn't a _doer_, by any means. But she had followed her heart, let it guide her into his cell and into his bed and let his hands roam all over her body. It was amazing, electrifying, and Beth was still weak-kneed about the whole affair. It was everything she wanted, except that it wasn't at the same time. Realistically, she knew Daryl Dixon wasn't the type of guy that was going to fall to one knee and profess his undying love for her, promise to keep her safe and sound, forever.

But at the same time, she had expected more than _nothing_. Which was exactly what she did recieve.

The next day, she floated down to breakfast, with Judith chatting gibberish in her ear. It was a sunny day, and the prison was light. Unfortunately, there was a dark mood all around them. People were droppin' like flies, falling victim to the flu. They had a quarantine ward, but Beth and Maggie and Rick had insisted that Hershel stay far away. Wasn't much he could do, other than get sick himself. They couldn't cut the flu out of him, like they'd done to his leg. Even with this dark cloud hanging over them, Beth had felt optimistic.

She didn't see him at breakfast, didn't see him at lunch. She spent the afternoon washing her's and Judith's clothes, chatting with Carol and Maggie as they worked. It was good to be with them, the two women she was closest to. Carol was motherly, always ready with a kind smile and helping words. Working with the kids was doing wonders for her soul, Beth thought. It was good to see her smile so freely.

It never went unnoticed, at least by Beth, that there were two women missing from their laundry detail. Thinking of Lori and Andrea made her heart hurt, tremendously, and she fought the tears that stung at her eyes.

Finally, at dinner, Beth saw Daryl. He looked disheveled, there were leaves in his hair and a cut on his forehead, which smeared red over his eyebrow and into his bangs. Instantly, she was relieved and worried all at the same time. The buck they had in a delicious stew was answer enough for where he had been, but the cut worried her. Had he had an accident? Stumble upon some unfriendly folks? A walker? But none of her questions were answered - he wouldn't even look at her. Feeling miffed, Beth finished her dinner before grabbing Judith and retreating to the semi-privacy of her cell. The two girls played and Beth sang, soothing her nerves. She went to bed feeling empty, and anxious.

Had she been wrong in coming to his room? She certainly wasn't going to do it again, after he gave her the cold shoulder. No matter how much she longed to, no matter how badly her body ached to feel him against her, to kiss him until she was breathless and dizzy. Maybe he was upsest about her innocence. Perhaps he was unsatisfied with her affections, and realized that she was a stupid little girl and that they had made a mistake. But... Hadn't he pleasured himself to thoughts of her? Hadn't he said his name as he climaxed? Beth wondered if it was a fleeting fantasy after seeing her nude.

The next day, Judith was fussy and Beth completely understood. She was, too.

"It's getting worse," Hershel said to her and Maggie at breakfast. The two girls had been enjoying a rare meal with their father. There was always so much to do, so many people to look after, it was special for them to get a family moment. "People are getting sicker, people are dying. There's walkers in the quarantine." His voice sounded old and weary, and so terribly sad. Beth put a hand on his arm, comforting him.

"Daddy, you can't," Maggie insisted fiercly. Her green eyes were dark and penetrating. "We'll get someone else to do it - hell, _I'll_ do it -"

"No," Beth said, shaking her head. "Maggie, what about Glenn? You can't go in there, either."

Maggie sighed, but admitted that her sister was right. There was too much at risk, and with her physical relationship with Glenn, it didn't make sense for her to put them both - two of their strongest people - at risk. Beth realized quickly that _she_ would be a good candidate for the job. Other than Judith, she didn't come into contact with anyone. _Except Daryl_, she amended, but it wasn't likely to happen again. Soon or ever. She might not be a good fighter, but she had picked a few walkers off the fence before, and having them inside of cells was just about the same... She chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"I know that look," Hershel said, and while his tone was fond, his eyes were not. He could read her too well. "And I think that's the craziest idea you've ever had."

"What?" Maggie asked, eyes darting between her father and sister.

"But Daddy!" Beth whined. Instantly, she corrected herself - she sounded like a little girl, a child, and that wasn't likely to convince a soul. Shaking her head, she explained her line of thought. "It makes perfect sense. I can go in there, check on everyone, kill the walkers. I don't really touch anyone, 'cept Judith, but someone else can take her for the day. I won't spread it," she added quickly. "I'm not important in the group, I don't provide and we all know I can't shoot worth beans."

"You are important," Maggie said, grabbing her hand. "Beth, it's really dangerous -"

"But it makes sense, right? Right?" she asked, gazing at her sister sharply. "Who else -"

"Anyone else," Hershel said, and his tone was final. Beth wanted to pout, but thought better of it. No one would stop her from doing it on her own. No one would know, until it was done. She'd always had a strong constitution, wasn't a sickly person. Not even a cold last winter...

"Fine," she said, shaking her head. "Whatever."

Later in the day, she dropped Judith with Rick, who was looking in better spirits than she'd seen him in a while. It wasn't that he was happy - it was more like the old Rick, determined to go on, no matter what. He brightened considerably to have his daughter in his company. Back in her cell, Beth grabbed her knife - the biggest, sharpest one in her arsenol - and turned it over in her small hands. It was dangerous - maybe even a suicide mission - but she knew that she could do it. She knew that she could help.

Beth took a deep, steadying breath, before exiting her cell and heading to the quarantine. Would have made it, too, if not for Daryl Dixon.

It was like he _knew_ when she was doing something she wasn't supposed to. She was standing outside the door, trying to gather her courage, when she felt his hand on her shoulder. Startled, she whipped around.

"Don't _do_ that!" she cried, smacking his bicep.

"No, _you_ don't," Daryl said. "Ya ain't goin' in there." His baby-blue eyes were sparkling, ready for a fight. Beth would not disappoint.

"You ain't the boss of me, Daryl," she said, and she could hear the bitterness in her voice. "You don't own me, and you don't get a say in what I do."

"The hell I don't!" he exclaimed. He dragged her away from the door, and it would have been comical under normal circumstances. She was twisting out of his grip, until he grabbed her shirt, her belt loops, whatever he could get a hold on. It wasn't until the fabric of her T-shirt ripped, loudly, that they both stopped. He held a limp piece of fabric in his hand, and Beth gazed down at her shirt with her mouth hanging open in surprise.

"You ripped my shirt!" she shrilled.

"It was an accident -" His cheeks were pink.

"Dammit, Daryl," she said, feeling her shoulders sag in defeat. "I just wanted to do my part, so no one else would have to. I'm not like you, or Maggie, or Rick or Michonne - you guys can't go in there. None of you can get sick - we'd all die without you."

"Yeah, well, you can't go in there either," he said, firm.

"Oh, you - _you_ -" Beth couldn't even finish her thought. She was fuming, spitting mad, and Daryl seemed to realize it a moment too late. Her small fists were suddenly pummeling him, raining down soft, not in the least bit painful blows, but he was frightened all the same. Angry Beth might be pretty, but this wasn't that. He caught her wrists, dodging a smack to his face, and pinned her up against the wall.

"'S wrong with you, girl?" he asked, gazing at her hard, like he would find the answer in her big blue eyes. She wouldn't cry. Couldn't cry in front of him. Instead, she closed her eyes and tried to control her breathing. It was difficult, with him so close in her personal space. All she had to do was tip her head back, stand on her tip-toes, and they would be kissing.

"Whats wrong with _you_?" she asked. "I - I _throw _myself at you," she laughed humorlessly, "and you avoid me like the plague. I.. I thought that there was something between us." She shook her head and hung her head. "Why do you even care if I get sick or not? You obviously want nothing to do with me."

She couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes. All she wanted was to curl up in her bed, cry until she was empty, and sleep until she didn't feel the sharp, acute pain of her heart breaking anymore. Beth had never been a dramatic girl. She'd lost plenty of people, people that she loved and cared about. But losing Daryl, before it even began, made her hurt in an entirely different way.

"Beth," Daryl said. His voice was commanding, and she was too weak to disobey. She lifted her gaze, their eyes meeting, and she could have fainted at the smoldering, heated look he was giving her. "I thought I told you before - I can't lose you." He gripped her shoulders in his big, strong, calloused hands. Her skin was hot, tingling under him. He squeezed, gently. "It's not just because you're family, or because I don't want to lose another person."

"Then why?" Beth asked, her voice a whisper and still husky.

Instead of responding with words, Daryl kissed her. It was the first time that he had made the moves, that he took the reins, and Beth was weak beneath him. Her mouth was hungry on his, lips and tongues dueling and tangling in a delicious, heated way. She was thankful for the way his hips were pressed on her, holding her up against the wall. His hands slid down the length of her body, grabbing her hips and lifting her easily until she was wrapped around him. She'd had no choice but to lock her legs around his back and her hands clutched his neck. Here they were again, she realized, locked in another passionate embrace without really getting anywhere.

_Whatever_. She gave herself over to the feelings and went with the flow. She'd figure out the details, the finer points, when he wasn't kissing her so passionately.

* * *

**So, thanks to some lady on tumblr :] here is an update for you. and because i love you guys SO MUCH, and your reviews are SO FREAKING GREAT, i'm going to post another chapter. **

**but hey, look at that. lizzie and carl kissed. **

**and also, whoa! daryl kissed beth first! OMG! what is my TWD world coming to?**

**i'm going to be honest. its my birthday weekend, i'm going to be 24, and i'm going to get shitfaced drunk and that is not the state of mind i need to be in to do some writing. lucky for you guys, i've got up to chapter 20 finished, so i'll try to update through out the weekend but i'm not making any kind of promises. i've also kind of hit a wall - the action has happened for me, even though you guys haven't experienced yet. i'm torn between continuing or letting it end. it's bittersweet, because this is my first TWD fic and I love it so much. i've got a lot of editing to do and it won't be over any time SOON, so don't worry. and, as i've told one or two of you, i only do happy endings... so there's that to look forward to. **

**and, of course, the much requested lizzie/carl spin off that's going to happen too. but other than that, i don't think i'll be doing many other projects, at least until WOAA is finished. **

**sorry for all the rambling. please review, let me know what you thought. thank you loves!**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Daryl was amazed, like he always was, when he had the girl beneath him. She tasted like sunshine, felt like it too. Heat radiated from her small body, and her mouth was searing on his. Her tongue was sweet and curious, shameless, as she plundered his mouth with enthusiasm and lust. For a girl that didn't have much experience, she was learning quickly, and Daryl was very much enjoying the soft noises and little movements she made against him. His hands were cupping her ass, and he couldn't help but squeeze and groan into her mouth. He wanted nothing more than to rip away her jeans and sheath himself inside of her, inside of the wet heat that he had barely touched, yet haunted his waking moments and dreams ever since.

She bit his lip, making his stomach clench, and he pulled back, panting. Their eyes met, blue clashing with blue, and there was a fire inside of her that riled him up and also frightened him. It meant too many things - things he didn't know if he could give her. But instead of saying something, she grabbed the scruff of his hair and yanked him back to her, arching up to him and kissing him some more.

Daryl leaned his hips against her, shuddering at the pressure against his erection, and the position kept her pinned up on the wall and freed his hands. One wrapped around her blonde ponytail, pulling her head back roughly to kiss his way down her neck. He kissed her pulse before nipping at her skin, sucking and making her shiver. She whispered his name, and he never thought it sounded so good on anyone's lips before. Her chest was heaving and he cupped a breast through her shirt, and she was wearing a bra today. He growled against her skin and pushed it up out of the way.

When his fingers found her pebbled, tight nipples, Beth moaned loud enough to wake the dead. Daryl chuckled at her reaction but told her to be quiet - last thing they needed was someone walking in now. Seeing him and her together, up against the wall with lust simmering in their blood. That thought didn't stop him from moving her shirt up, ducking his head, and capturing one of her tight peaks between his lips. Sucking, tongue flicking, he elicited another moan and then her fingers were in his hair and clutching at him frantically.

"Please, please, Daryl," she panted. He smiled against her, using his teeth to scrape against her. She was shuddering around him and her hips were thrusting against him, rocking softly. She didn't have much range of movement between him and the wall, but it was kind of perfect because he could feel it all. It was delicious, it was sinful, and Daryl wanted nothing more than to keep going.

It wasn't until Beth froze that Daryl lifted his head from her breast. Her nipple was wet and shiny from his saliva. It was an erotic sight, but Daryl tucked it away for later evaluation. With her still attached to him, he turned them around, and he could have swore. Carl and Lizzie were standing there, gaping at them in stunned silence.

"Damn," he grunted. Scrambling, Beth pushed on him and unlocked her legs, finding her feet gracelessly.

"Carl!" she exclaimed, straightening her shirt. "Lizzie - you two shouldn't be here, it's -"

"Um," Lizzie said, stepping forward. She gave Beth a funny look and whispered, "Your bra is _not_ on your boobs -"

"Get out," Daryl said, darkly. "Ya'll go on. Not safe here." His voice was gruff and blunt, giving no room for disagreement, and Lizzie flinched, fearful.

"Don't be mean to her 'cause you got busted," Carl said. He reached for her hand, and Lizzie took it. Well, _that_ was new. Daryl shook his head, glaring at the kids, and Carl shook his head. "Lets just go. Ain't worth an argument." They turned, and Lizzie looked relieved to be leaving.

Daryl and Beth gazed at each other for a moment, until she blushed and looked away. Her eyes went to the door leading into the quarantine.

"Don't even think about it," Daryl said.

She bit her lip, and he swallowed the groan that threatened to be voiced. Shaking his head, the lusty haze of urgency ebbing, Daryl's hand found her lower back and he pushed, guiding her out of the cell block and into safer territory.

"Go find Judith, or some chores to do - but stay the _hell_ away from here," he instructed. Beth could only nod weakly, blue eyes a mixture of disappointment and heat. "And change ya shirt."

Her fingers toyed with the rip, and she nodded, before walking away from him. He watched the twitch of her hips as she went, and cursed her existence again. _Too late now,_ he thought. He couldn't live without her if he tried. It was weakness, and it was damnable, but it was what it was. Daryl wanted her, and it seemed like for the first time he was getting what he wanted. But at what price?

* * *

Maggie was up in the guard tower, sniper rifle at her hip. It was a glorious, sunny day, and from her high vantage it was easy to pretend that things weren't going wrong down below. It was _too_ easy to pretend that the sickness wasn't taking them away, that they were fine down there, surviving. She was still surprised at Beth's insistance that _she_ help them, go into the sick-block. What was Beth going to do about it, anyway? Risking herself for people they didn't even know, people that were as good as dead.

She didn't know what had gotten into her baby sister lately. Seemed like Beth was always distracted, always off in her own world. Maybe she was losing it, too - Maggie remembered the bathroom at the farm house, when she had slit her wrists. Tried to take the easy way out. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she took a few calming breaths, willing them away.

Maggie leaned her toned arms against the rail that boardered the tower deck, leaning against it. She was wondering about Beth and her mental state when the hatch swung open, and Daryl Dixon's messy hair popped through. She smiled at him, and he nodded in return.

"You're early," Maggie said. Judging by the sun, she'd only been up there a couple hours.

"Wanted ta talk to ya," Daryl said, and that caught her off guard. Daryl Dixon seeking her out? Well, maybe there were a flock of pigs taking off in flight somewhere in the world. Maggie studied him, from his unusually messy - well, _messier _- hair to his ragged appearance. The man didn't seem to own anything with a sleeve, and his pants were holey, stained-up. His crossbow was draped over his shoulder, a pistol on his hip, knife on the other. Always ready, always prepared. Maggie felt glad for that.

"Whats up?" she asked, studying him.

"It's Beth," Daryl said. Immediately, Maggie's heart stuttered, then took off in her chest.

"What'd you mean, Beth? Is she sick - is she _bit_ -"

"No, no," he said, shaking his head, waving a hand for her to calm down. "She's fine. Physically," he added. "Can't seem to say the same for her mental health."

"You'd better get to explainin', Dixon," Maggie said in annoyance.

"I, uh. Caught 'er tryin' to go in the quarantine," he said, and his tone was remorseful. Almost sheepish. Maggie didn't know what to make of that, but she her blood set to boil when she realized Beth had blatantly disobeyed their father, gone against her own wishes.

"Stupid," Maggie spat. "I _told_ her -"

"She won't be goin' back," Daryl said gruffly. Maggie eyed him, watching the way his cheeks pinked up, and frowned. Was there something she was missing?

"Why the sudden interest in my sister, Dixon?" she asked cooly. Straightening up, she crossed her arms over her chest and arched an eyebrow at him. Realistically, she knew that Beth was eighteen and Daryl was definitely old enough to make his own decisions... Part of her was happy, if they had found what she and Glenn had. It was the end of the world, but there was something about having someone to come home to, to look after and protect, that made it all worth while. But at the same time, he was a grown man. And he wasn't the _nicest_ person in the world, wasn't the easiest to get along with. Hell, the man wore a necklace made of walker ears for a while, his brother was a no-good junkie that had tortured her and Glenn.

_He's not his brother_, Maggie thought, instantly retracting her last thought. He wasn't like Merle in the least bit, other than blood. He kept them all fed and safe, did a good job of lookin' after all of them... But she didn't want Beth to get hurt. Beth was sensitive, and sweet, and gentle. Wasn't cut out for this end of the world crap. The only boyfriend she'd ever had was Jimmy, and that was mostly out of friendship than passion. It was what good girls did when nice boys wanted to date them.

Daryl glared out to the woods, eyes narrowed. "Ain't nothin' goin' on," he said, his voice low. "She's a good girl."

"Yeah," Maggie agreed. "She is. And if someone were to hurt her - in _any_ shape or form..." She trailed off, and he glanced at her. Blue eyes were somber, and she smiled. Her green gaze was far from friendly, far from safe. There was a dangerous lilt to them. "I'd be fully within my right to spill their blood. And I would do so happily." The edge to her voice was just sharp enough, and she caught the gulp he took. His expression was cool, calm, but there was a panic in his eyes that was all the evidence she needed. She wouldn't call him out now - she had him trapped, and she was amused by the way he squirmed.

"I'm - gonna, uh, go get some lunch," Daryl said, stumbling over his words. "Be back in a bit."

"Later," Maggie said. She watched him go, maybe the fastest she'd seen him move when there weren't walkers invovled. Smiling, satisfied with herself, she turned back to the horizon.

* * *

"I can't believe it," Lizzie said. She was blushing, still, and Carl chuckled at her. They were sitting on the floor in the library, where Storytime was taking place. Never would he have been caught dead there - but it was a good hide out from Daryl and Beth, and he wasn't looking forward to seeing either one of them soon. Lizzie had math problems in front of her, and Carl was pretending to read an old copy of Moby Dick. It was boring and he wasn't doing a good job of pretending. "I mean, I knew we would get them together eventually, and all. But that was..."

"Weird," Carl supplied, arching an eyebrow at her over the top of his book. Carol wasn't paying them any attention, and it wasn't like she was going to force him to do schoolwork like the others. She knew she'd be pressin' her luck.

"Hot," Lizzie disagreed with a frown. "And romantic. _Totally_ romantic."

Carl didn't really agree - for a girl with high expectations about where and how she would lose her virginity, finding Daryl and Beth up against the wall, just outside of the sick ward, was_ not_ romantic. But Carl couldn't deny that it was kind of... Sexy. Was that even the right word? He was lost when it came to this kind of stuff, and it wasn't like he had anyone he could talk to about it. Except for Lizzie. But how could he talk to her about that when part of what he needed to talk about was stuff that invovled her?

They'd kissed - she kissed him, to be exact. It wasn't a crazy make out session and it definitely wasn't on the level of Daryl and Beth, but the way his heart exploded in his chest and the lights like fire-works behind his eyes made him shiver and tingle. It was warm and soft and sweet. He wanted to do it a million more times. He wanted to see her every minute of every day, and he thought about her even more than that.

"Whatever you say," Carl replied, shaking his head with a smile.

"Exactly." Lizzie grinned at him before returning her eyes to the sheet of paper in front of her. She chewed on her lip thoughtfully, before glancing up at him. "Do you think they've done it yet?"

"I don't know," Carl said. "None of our business."

"You're right." Well, if kissing Lizzie made her so damn agreeable, he was gonna have to do it more often. Smiling to himself, Carl knew that wasn't going to be a problem in his book. No, he looked forward to it.

* * *

**Enjoy! :] Very soon you will get some full on lemony-goodness, and I promise it will be worth the wait.**

**review and message me! keeps me sane and writing :]**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

After the events earlier in the day, and with people whooping coughs loud enough to wake the dead, Beth decided that she needed to move. Keeping Judith in the general population wasn't safe - keeping _herself_ in general population wasn't safe, and if Daryl was going to be on her all the time, just like the rest of her family, she figured that she'd better keep to the straight and narrow. They had decided to segretate the sick and the healthy. Kids, and Beth, would be holing up in the administration buildings, keeping together, keeping safe. It was a lot of responsibility, but Beth was more than thankful to be useful.

She packed up a quick bag, mainly for the baby. Toys, food, nappies and blankets, as well as a few changes of clothes. She carried Judith in the crate, slung the bag over her shoulder, and made her way to the distant buildings thorugh the cavernous, dark hallways of the jail.

It had been a shock, when she heard of Karen and that other man. Someone dragging them out to burn. Tyreese was grief mad - much like Rick had been, and Daryl seemed to be the glue holding them all together. She was worried about him, just as much as the others, but at the same time... Daryl was a Dixon, and it sure took a hell of a lot to hurt them.

Seperated by a door with a fogged-glass window, Beth did her best to make it cozy. She found a pallet, padded it with blankets, and laid Judith down for a short nap. In the mean time, she paced. There was so much going on now. The governor, those men they had run into while on the trip to town. They were lucky they had the antibiotics, but there were only so many and they weren't going to last, spread out between all the sick folks. The kids were being watched by Carl, who had his pistol back.

It would have made her nervous, but instead, Beth was pretty glad that someone was protecting them.

She knew that Daryl was going on the run. She knew that between him and Michonne, things would be all right... But the idea still sent cold chills of dread down her spine, and her eyes pricked with tears every time her mind wandered to the unspeakable. If he didn't return, or if he returned injured. It meant a lot of bad for their community, but it especially meant a lot of bad for Beth.

The last thing she needed was all this alone time. Her mind was in over-drive.

Just hours ago, he'd had her pinned up against the wall, doing decidedly sinful and wonderful things to her willing and ready body. She knew she didn't want her first time to be up against the wall with all of the sickness just on the otherside of the door nearby. But she also knew that he lit her up like a firecracker, like fireworks on the Fourth of July, and she also knew that the desire that twisted in her belly wasn't going to ebb away easily. It was almost as though he had invaded her body, her mind, her spirit. What started as friendship, and that was tentative at best, had turned into something completely different.

Was she falling in love with the man? The redneck. The man with a mouth worse than a sailor. He was rough, he was gruff, and he wasn't the kind of man that she had imagined herself with before all of this happened. No, she had anticipated a nice, quiet man with a love of nature, a hearty enthusiasm for college football. Maybe even someone with a college degree, like she was hoping to get. But now...

Now, the man that she fell for was the only person she trusted, absolutely, to keep her safe. The man that was so untouchable, so insensitive and _rude_ and just so infuriating. Hot and cold, he could never make a decision. One minute, he was throwing her against the wall, his mouth wandering to places that she had barely been touched before and making her writhe and twist with the sweetest agony. The next, he was shooing her off, telling her to get back to the baby and take care of things at the home front.

He was... _Protecting_ her. That's what he did, after all. He was a hunter, a survivor, and he was trying to make sure she stayed alive, too. He couldn't lose her. He'd told her that herself. Did that mean...

Walking to the window, eyes peeled for any suspicious activity, Beth let the thought trail off without much further consideration. _If_ Daryl had feelings for her, like she was having for him... Well, they'd have to deal with it when he returned.

Becauswe in Beth Greene's mind, there was no question. No way in hell would the man not return - it was what he did best.

* * *

It was all goin' to hell. Daryl peered through the windshield, eyes peeled for walkers. They had a long trip, but they were in the faster car the group had. When he heard the voice on the radio, it was almost like the old days. Staticy. He flipped the dials, but then it hit him - _there was a voice on the radio_. Everyone reacted at once, leaning forward to try and decipher what they heard. He thought he'd made out the word 'alive' but he couldn't be sure. Then he glanced up, noticed that damn walker just standing in the middle of the dirt lane, and slammed the brakes and yanked the wheel.

It was just the beginning of another fuck-up, another fuck-up in a long list of fuck-ups in his life. When they escaped, when Tyreese stayed back with that unsure, lost expression on his mangled face, he had to leave him. The man was grievin' but if he wanted to feed himself to the walkers, that was his perogative. But that didn't mean the rest of them had to hang back and watch it happen. Michonne, Bob, and Daryl were on their feet and moving, blades swinging, arrows sailing. Damn good thing they'd brought Bob. They needed him for more than just his reading abilities.

Once they reached the clearing in the woods, where the sun filtered down briefly through tall, leafy branches, Daryl stooped down to reload the Horton and the others seemed to catch their breath. When they realized there was movement in the bushes, Daryl kept his eyes peeled.

No one expected Tyreese to appear, though he was being followed by the walkers, it was a relief. Then they were moving again, on foot, towards the veternarian school. It would take double the time on foot, double the time they didn't have. His mind flashed momentarily to Beth, wondering and praying that she was fine, that she was smart, that she was taking care of herself and Lil Asskicker. He _needed_ her safe. He needed her to be there when he returned. They had unfinished business - but it was much, much more than that.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Lizzie asked, crossing her arms over her chest as she glared at Carl. He was wearing that hat again, the Sheriff hat that was fit him surprisingly well for belonging to his father. He rolled his eyes, but flopped beside her on the make-shift cot. The kids - there were about four of them that hadn't taken sick since the outbreak. He was relieved, he was thankful, would've prayed if he thought it would day any good, that Lizzie was safe. She and Mika, himself, and a small, curly haired-kid that was somewhere around six, Carl hazarded. They were stuffed into a room with cots and a couple mattresses on the floor. There were books, food rations, water - everything they might need. It seemed as though they were meant to stay there for a while.

Much to Carl's chagrin. He should be out there, helping, taking care like his father and the other men. But Rick had insisted that he needed to protect the kids, take on that responsibility, but... Carl felt useless. And maybe even a little _used_.

"Helpin' Hershel," Carl replied, surly. He slipped off his hat, hanging it on one of the chairs in the messy room. It had been a hasty move, and there were pieces of furniture left over. A big pine desk, the chair, papers strewn everywhere. Mike, her blonde hair a knotted mess, was playing with the little boy on the floor. She flashed him a smile, and Carl noted that a few of her baby teeth were missing.

"Oh," Lizzie said dumbly. She was standing there, hands on her hips as she gazed at him. Carl was about to tell her to drop the attitude when she rushed to him, throwing her arms around her neck and hugging her tightly. "Don't do that again," she whispered low in his ear, making his skin tingle and warm. "Or at least tell me, first."

Carl nodded, getting a whiff of the floral shampoo from her hair. He held her tightly, allowing himself the comfort her arms afforded him. It was nice, to have this, from someone his age and someone that he felt more than friendly towards. Taking a chance, he kissed her cheek. It was flaming hot and she cupped it once they broke apart, smiling.

"Carl and Lizzie, sitting in a tree..." Mika sang, and the little boy chortled happily and joined in their song. Shaking his head, Carl once again was annoyed with babysitting duty. Must have been how Beth felt all the time.

* * *

"Glenn's sick." Maggie was on the other side of the door. Beth's heart clenched, picked up it's pace. She knew that Maggie's heart was breaking, and she could hear the unrestrained fear and sadness in her sister's normally collected voice. "He's sick, he's in that quarantine ward. Who knows if Daryl and Michonne will be back soon enough - who knows if he'll make it -"

"Maggie." Beth made sure her voice was sharp, that it was serious. She might be the baby, but she wasn't a child anymore. She had to keep hope, she had to believe. She couldn't give up - even _if_ the worst happened, even if Glenn was taken by the flu, she had to be strong. Maggie was one of the only people in the prison that could take care of them, she was a fighter, a warrior, the strongest woman (aside from Michonne) that would make sure they were all safe. She couldn't give up now.

"I know," Maggie responded dejectedly. "You know don't what it's like, though. Don't know what it's like to have your man seperated from you, sick, maybe _dead_ -"

"I know what it's like to lose people," Beth said evenly. "We all do."

A thoughtful, heavy silence hung between them. Cradling Judith, the sweet child being quiet and docile, Beth leaned her forehead against the glass. She could practically feel the heat of Maggie pressed on the other side of the glass.

"We don't get to be sad, Maggie. We don't get to be tired, or sick, and we don't get to give up. We have to be strong, we have to push on, and we have to make it. We have to, because we're survivors, and this is what we do. What we have to do."

Maggie was quiet for a moment, but Beth heard her sigh and then the creak of wood. Her dark shape on the other side of the murky glass disappeared, but she knew that her sister had only sank down to sit with her back pressed against the door. Sighing, Beth mirrored her gesture, cradling Judith in suddenly shaking arms.

She knew better than anyone what it was like to have her man far away, in the heart of danger, risking his life to make sure they were safe. She sent a fleeting thought to God, if he was still up there, that he would take care of them out on the run. That they would get the drugs, they would get back in one piece, un-bitten and healthy. They simply had to.

* * *

Inside the veterinarian school, Daryl wasn't sure where to go. They had Hershel's make-shift map, knew what they needed to get. But it was dark, even those emergency lights had burned out. No generator. It was dark and dank, and creepy, but he pushed those thoughts from his mind as he kept on. Michonne crept silently alongside him, katana poised at the ready, just like his bow was in one arm and pointed ahead. Bob and Tyreese followed behind, all angles covered. It took them a good twenty minutes, wandering the rotting corridors, until they found the pharmacy.

"Thank God," Bob said, sighing. He pushed open the door, and the room was thankfully silent. Actually, the whole building had been. Hopefully, the herd they had the misfortune of encountering on the road was the worst of what they would deal with today. Hopefully, when they returned, they'd be able to get the stuck car back on it's four wheels and burn rubber and kick dust and speed, fast as they could, til they were home.

_Til you're with Beth_, he mind was telling him.

Even in the most desperate of times, the young, beautiful blonde was not far from his thoughts. It was a distraction, but it was also an added determination to get them home quickly and safely. He needed to see her. He needed to touch her, kiss her, hold her. He'd never felt like that towards another human being, and while it scared him shitless... It was enough to survival more than just a priority. No if's, and's, or but's. There was no question, there was no _maybe_.

He would return to her. He would make sure of it.

"Let's get this shit and get the hell out of here," Daryl drawled, and they were all in motion. Searching for the right pill bottles - Daryl didn't have time. He'd take it all, even the shit they didn't need specifically. He figured it'd all come in handy at some point or another, and they were losing daylight. One Bob nodded that he'd had it all, and Michonne was satisfied - Tyreese was a loose cannon, and Daryl wasn't counting on his opinion for anything - they left. They made their way back to the car as fast as they could, eyes constantly peering into the brush and leaves to make sure that they wouldn't be ambushed.

The car, however, had a few stragglers milling around it. Nothing they couldn't handle.

Tyreese rose his pistol, finger already squeezing the trigger. Michonne wrapped her hand around the barrel, pushing it down.

"Too loud. We can't risk attracting more of them, again," she added. Something seemed to click, in his good eye, the one that wasn't swollen shut after his altercation with Rick that morning. He nodded.

"Gonna have to push the car," Bob noted, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"Let's get these ones knocked out," Daryl said. "Then worry about that."

They made quick work - there were only about ten, sluggish and stumbling, and between Michonne's blade and Daryl's bow, they fell soundlessly to the gravel. The sun was much closer to the west for comfort, but Daryl didn't care. Barely noticed.

"Get behind the wheel," he instructed Bob. "Tyreese and I'll push, get us free." He glanced at the big black man, who appeared on the verge of tears suddenly. Daryl wished he knew what to say, what to do - comfortin' wasn't his forte. Instead, he clapped a hand on the man's back, startling him from his reverie, and the two got behind the truck. An errant hand groped at Daryl's ankle, but he stomped it dead with his steel-toe boot. It was a satisfying crunch of tendons and bones.

Once they had the car free, they all piled in. Daryl didn't want to drive, not after he'd gotten them into this mess, and settled for the passenger seat. He found a stack of CD's in the glove compartment, not entirely hopeful that the kid who'd had the car would have an impressive choice of tunes... He flicked open the sleeve of CD's, eyes landing on a polaroid photograph. It was Beth, smiling up with a surprised expression. Her big blue eyes were filled with laughter, and she was reaching towards the camera, the person with the camera...

Daryl's heart clenched, suddenly, stuttered. He wasn't the only one with feelings for the girl, and while the person that had probably taken the picture, Zach, had been dead for a while now... Jealousy still blossomed in the pit of his stomach, and he wanted nothing more than to strangle the kid. Stuffing the photo into the interior pocket of his vest, he flipped through the CD's and found an old Rolling Stones greatest-hits album. Smirking, he slipped it in.

Guess he couldn't hate the kid for good taste.

* * *

**As of posting this, I've finished this story. 21 chapters. It's very bittersweet and I'm happy and sad. Thank you for the love and support I've recieved while working on this. Keep in mind that I'm developing a sequel, one that's more focused on Lizzie and Carl - of course! As requested :]**

**Thank you, thank you, thank you! You guys are all awesome. I love you all.**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Beth was dozing when the door flung open. Judith cradled at her chest, dreaming and peaceful in her arms. She had to control her flinch of surprise when the noise happened, and the last person - and the only person - she cared to see was standing in the doorway. Looking worse for wear, covered in dirt and grime and blood that was hopefully not his own, Daryl Dixon was staring at her with a ferocity she had never seen before. Carefully, Beth stood, leaning against the window ledge to balance herself with the sleeping child in her arms. He crossed the room in a few, lumbering steps. His smile at the baby was fleeting, before he took her from Beth's arms and placed her with all of the soft, gentlity he posessed, into her crate. She was getting too big for it. They'd need something else, and soon.

A million thoughts crossed her mind, but Beth held her tongue. She was so thankful for seeing him, in one piece, that tears prickled her eyes and she took a deep, stuttering breath. That was all, before he was sweeping her into her arms and crushing her against his chest in a hug that conveyed more than any words could. They were both relieved, happy, to be in each other's presence. Daryl noticed her trembling before she did, and pulled back an inch or two. He couldn't give her more space than that.

"You're here," she whispered, but tears made her voice thick.

Softly, he pressed his thumbs to her cheek bones to sweep away the tears. She leaned into his hands, rejoicing in the feel of him. It'd been nearly two days, longer than they had expected. Beth had no idea what was going on outside of this room, and for the first time in a long time, she didn't care. Selfishly, she held the man that had her heart, in her arms, and it was ok. They were both alive, and safe, for now.

"I was so scared," she admitted. Daryl gave her one of his smirks, shook his head.

"I always come back."

"I know," she whispered.

"I'd always come back for you."

And then his lips were on her, crushing and bruising with the force of it. Her eyes slipped shut, and her brain switched off. No more worries, no more fear. Passion was overloading her senses, and she clutched at the soft, worn leather of his vest tightly. Fisting the fabric, keeping him close, close.

Though the kiss was hard, their tongues were gentle. Beth had never felt him kiss her like this before, long and soothing her soul. She wanted to keep it up forever, but Daryl had other ideas. His hands ran from the top of her head, smoothing over her blonde hair, cupping her round cheeks, tracing her chin. Fingertips graced over her vulnerable throat, feeling the quick pulse there. But he didn't linger. Quickly, his hands were yanking the blouse over her head, tossing it carelessly to the dirty floor.

This was different, Beth thought absently. This was more.

She pressed his vest off, and with growing urgency, begin to undo the buttons of his sleeveless flannel. Once his chest was bare, her fingers roamed over him. Hard pecs, abdomenal muscles that she could wash clothes on... It was rough and soft at the same time, all hard muscle and thin patches of hair. There was a tattoo over his heart, and she didn't take the time to study it before kissing his throat, the soft hollow at the base. Feeling his heartbeat against her lips, that he was alive even though she had other evidence. It made a difference. She moaned softly as he pulled her close, and her hard nippes brushed his chest. He grunted appreciatively at the sensation.

He couldn't find the words that he wanted to say. He couldn't tell her he loved her - he wasn't sure if that was going on, but there was something in the dark, cold recesses of his heart that was insisting that was what it was. Had been a long time since he felt so strongly towards anyone but his brother... But he felt something for this young girl, something that made it impossible to stop his hands from caressing all over her smooth, pale skin. Something that made it too hard to stop. He found the button and zipper of her jeans, popped it almost silently, before dragging the material down her long, shapely legs.

Beth knew that this was it. She was going to give herself to him, and rather than the anxious, shaky mess that she had anticipated, she was confident. This felt right, it felt delicious and sinful and dirty but in the best possible way. With Judith sleeping nearby, she tugged Daryl down to the small, dirty mattress on the floor and continued to kiss him. His hand had found it's way to the apex of her thighs, covered only by thin, pink cotton panties. There was no laughter in his blue eyes - only lust, only passion. His irises seemed to explode so they were rimmed by only the smallest hint of blue.

"Please," she whimpered, arching her body towards him. Greedily, he ducked his dark head and began to lick and suck on the hard nipples that were begging for attention. Her skin was heated and sweet, and so goddamn soft. One hand cupped the breast he wasn't suckling, rolling her nipple and squeezing the full weight. She was shivering and shaking beneath him with anticipation.

But her hands were impatient, too, and before he had realized what she was doing, his jeans were undone and she was pushing them down his narrow hips. Dragged his boxers down with them.

"Slow down," he whispered, smiling. "We got time." Here, in this office with the baby sleeping nearby, Daryl felt that time had stopped. This moment was dreamlike, beautiful with soft sunlight filtering over her porcelain skin. He wanted to kiss and lick and taste every inch of her. They were both naked, and Daryl took the time to press the length of his body against her's. Beth mewed softly at the contact, her legs wrapping around his back to keep him in place.

"Please, Daryl," she whimpered again. "I want you - so bad, so much - so please... Please just..." Her cheeks were the prettiest pink as the dirtiest phrase rolled off her angelic little tongue. "Just fuck me."

He groaned and dug his face into her shoulder, taking a slow, unsteady breath. There was no turning back now, no way he could deny her. He might be able to pretend, at least in the past, that things were innocent. They wouldn't get this far. But here they were, and here he was, his hard cock mere centimeters from her opening. But he couldn't just dive in, willy-nilly. She was a virgin, and he wanted to make sure that it would be as pleasurable as possible.

"Gimme 'second," he grunted. Her fingers toyed with his hair as he kissed her chest a few times, giving equal attention to her breasts, before trailing lower. He went slow, savoring her soft creamy flesh, enjoying the soft noises and squirming beneath his body. When his hands hooked in her panties, dragging them down her thighs, the scent of her overwhelmed him. Sweet, musky, womanly. How had he thought she was a child before? The thatch of blond curls were tempting him, but he wasn't sure how she'd react if he just went face first for her pussy. His mouth was watering at the thought, but instead, he slid a finger over her tiny slit. Her pussy was perfect, the softest pink tissue glistening with her arousal. Her thighs were even shiny from it, and he had a moment of complete disbelief that he had done this to her. He invoked this reaction, this lust. His head was dizzy with the realization.

When his finger brushed the bundle of nerves at the top of her vagina, she shivered and her eyes rolled back. Daryl smirked before delving further. Her heat was unbelievable, her scent was tempting fate... He played with her clit for a few more moments, reveling in the cries and lip biting that happened. But when he slid a calloused finger inside her channel, it was his turn to groan.

She was tight. Fucking unbelievably tight. Her inner muscles clenched at him, and he gazed at her in shock. Beth was that excited? Already on the cusp? Lusty-haze overtook him, and with his free hand, he spread her open before leaning forward to flick his tongue over her nub and taste her. Boldly going where no man had gone before... And, he thought posessively, no other man would _ever_ go.

Beth covered her mouth, not wanting to wake the baby, but it was too much. Overwhelming. Her head was thrown back with ecstacy as he plunged his finger into her, building a rythm, and playing with that spot that had made her orgasm before. His _tongue_ was on her most private, special place... It should have felt dirty, should have felt wrong. But it was only exciting her further, pushing her closer to that edge. It was quick, maybe thirty seconds, and she was twisting and arching and whispering his name feverently, like he was something mighty, something holy, as the orgasm ripped through her slender body. She was shaking, and Daryl gave her trembling thighs a satisfied smirk as he sat back. Their eyes met and he licked the residue of her from his lips.

Reaching blindly, Beth's hands found his cock. It was hard, pointed right at her, and she was amazed at the feel beneath her fingers. It was velvet wrapped around iron, and burning to the touch. He hissed at the sensation, and she took that as all the encouragement she needed. Squeezing softly, she pulled her hands up and over him, mimicking what she had witnessed in the shower. Had it been that long? She shook the thought from her head and focused on his face, which was a beautiful scene. Brows knit together, lips in a tight, pursed line. His nostrils flared with each inhale.

"Y'better quit," he growled, and the fierce tone in his voice only made her moan with want. She was weak beneath him, puddy in his hands. He knew it, too. Releasing him, but leaning up to steal a kiss, she was sure. This was what she wanted, what she needed. They were both home, both safe, and hadn't it all been leading up to this exact moment? All their stolen exchanges of passion, the looks they shared when no one was paying them attention. She arched her hips up, which he grasped his posessive hands. He positioned himself at her entrance, taking in the line of her sensual body, open and spread and _all his_. The covetous thought was it. Without much ado, he pressed into her.

As wet as she was, Beth was still a virgin. It took a moment, a few shallow, torturous thrusts, until he was fully sheathed. Her eyes were scrunched shut, tight, and he prayed that he hadn't hurt her too much. He leaned forward, capturing her lips in an apologetic kiss, holding as still as he could.

"Y'all right?" he whispered, concerned.

Beth nodded quickly, and rocked her hips against him. The movement drew him deeper, and with a groan that he couldn't hold in, he began a slow pace. Glad that she came already, glad that it had taken very little for that to happen. Daryl wasn't going to last very long, and her hips shifting, ungraceul and virginal and innocent against him, wasn't helping him hold up. For the sake of all that was holy, he prayed that he had enough common sense to pull out before he finished.

But damn, if it didn't feel better than anything he'd ever felt. All the random fucks, the women that had become a faceless stream of drunken one-night stands, fumblings in the back of a car, whatever. Nothing was as good as Beth, because nothing had ever been Beth before. And here he was, rocking against her. When her fingers clenched his shoulders, small nails pressing half-moon crescents into his flesh, he hissed. When her lips found his earlobe, nipping and sucking and licking and fingers tangled in his dirty hair, pulling him in for another kiss that made his toes curl... Nothing sent him over the edge faster than her whispering his name, whispering it over and over until it bled into one jumbled word and her eyes were screwed shut. Her back was arching off the dirty mattress, and her legs were shaking again. Daryl was in disblief that it could happen again, especially her first time, but when her vaginal muscles began to clench and squeeze his dick, he lost control.

Gone was the gentle consideration. He thrust against her, slapping his hips against her's until he could last no longer. With a strangled cry, he exploded - inside of her - and his hips kept their pace until he could catch his breath and his mind caught up to his actions.

But looking at Beth, breathless and pink cheeked and smiling, so fucking sweetly, he didn't care. He was exhausted after the long day, after the love making, and he collapsed on top of her on the bare mattress.

"That was -" Beth started, then bit her lip sheepishly. Daryl smiled at her, shaking his head. "That was perfect."

"Perfect?" Daryl echoed, then snorted. "Deserved better than this. Deserved -"

"Doesn't matter what I deserved," Beth said, twisting up to give him a soft, lingering kiss. "I got what I wanted. _That's_ what matters." Then she settled back down, her face in the crook her his neck and her limbs tangled with his. The two lay in silence, thankfully hadn't disturbing Judith, enjoying a few moments of solitude in the sunlight. It wasn't perfect. Not even close - but it was what the two had, and what they shared. They'd take their piece of happiness where every they could take it.

**They finally did it, yall! I hope it wasn't too drawn out and long, but I got a little caught up, myself. Please review, let me know how you liked it (if you liked it). Thank you for your continued support and enthusiasm. You guys make my life, and I swear I wouldn't be writing this if it weren't for you. Mad, mad love. Thank you all.**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

When Daryl woke, it was dark. He kept his breathing shallow, unsure of what was going on. Glancing down the length of his body, he heard the soft breaths of another person, the spill of golden blonde hair over his chest. A pale shoulder peeked out from beneath the dirty blanket that covered them. He sighed, momentarily relieved. But that was short lived, as guilt seeped into his concious. Guilt, happiness, shame, joy - it was a cocktail he'd rather not swallow, but he'd made his bed and was currently laying in it. With deep breath, he slipped back the blanket and turned to move out of bed. However, a surprisingly strong grip on his hip kept him in place.

"Stay," Beth commanded, though her voice was sleep-gentle and not the least bit firm. But he couldn't deny her that. Shaking his head, knowing that nothing good was going to come from this, he lay back in the bed and felt her snuggle up against him. Daryl Dixon was not a cuddling man, had never really had the opportunity - then again, his previous bedmates weren't the kind of women that he wanted to hang around once the deed was finished. Most the time, he wanted to get away as soon as he came.

Let alone fall asleep next to them, then let them snuggle up and hold onto him like a goddamn life-raft.

"She's sleepin' through the night now," Beth mumbled. She shifted, chin resting against his chest. Sleepy blue eyes, framed by thick eyelashes that were longer than he recalled, found his face, studied him.

"Thank God for that," Daryl grumbled. "Wasn't lookin' forward t'it."

"So... how is it out there?" Beth asked. She was awake now, and eager to chat. Daryl wished he could just kiss her back to sleep, give them a bit more time together, alone and peaceful and happy, before the details changed it all. He wanted to keep the bubble intact - she wanted to burst it. Persistant little thing.

"Not good," Daryl admitted. "We almost lost Tyreese - it was too damn close."

"But he's safe?" she asked him. Daryl nodded. "Good. That's what matters. After what happened to Karen... I don't know what I would have done."

Daryl mutely agreed. If it was Beth sick, if it was Beth that someone had dragged out to burn... He couldn't think of the bloodshed that would follow. She was _his_, and that meant so many different things. His to protect, to keep safe and keep her belly full. To love her, take care of her... Vaguely, he remembered that little girl tell him he was supposed to be taking care of her, if he liked her. He smiled at the unexpected insight and wisdom of a child.

"Got what we needed - hopefully it'll do the trick." He stroked rough fingers against her temple, threading his fingers though her hair. In the darkness of the office, the makeshift bedroom, he was more at ease than he had been in his entire life. Beth was curled against him, physically safe in his arms. She pressed a light kiss to his chest, dangerously close to his sensitive nipple, and he felt his stomach churn with lust and heat.

"I hope so too." She tucked her head into the crux of his neck, fingers trailing over his belly. It was so soft, so perfect in that moment. Daryl held his arms around her, crushing her probably uncomfortably to him, but she didn't make a peep. Beth must have sensed his need to keep her close, hold her to him. Maybe she needed it, too.

* * *

Maggie had fabric wrapped around her face, and the gloves on her hands, but she wasn't about to keep away from her man now. She was thankful, beyond that even, that the group had returned in one piece. She wanted nothing more than to get the medicine to Glenn, to keep him safe and get him well. Entering the quarantined cell block, the stench of body odor and sickness permeated the air, straight through her mask. She resisted the urge to gag - smelled worse than some of the walkers she'd run into. Shaking the thought from her head, she instantly spotted Glenn on the cat-walk, hunched over and sweaty. His skin was pale, hair matted and curled on his skin. She was relieved that he was still alive, but worried, instantly, at the state of him.

The others would worry about the sick folks below. But Glenn was her husband, and she wasn't going to worry about anyone else until she'd give him the medicine.

"You shouldn't be here," he wheezed. It was obvious that he was getting worse, and dried blood caked his lips. Maggie bit her tongue, holding in the disagreement. Instead, she handed him a bottle of water and two of the big green pills.

"Best antibiotics in the world," she said. She smiled at him, reassuring, though he couldn't see her lips. He could read it in her eyes.

All that they had been through, the people they'd loved that had died and the horrific things that had happened to them... Maggie knew that if Glenn died, there would be no one else. She might be young, but in this world... They were all years older than their physical age. If there was no Glenn, Maggie would become like her father, or Rick, or Daryl. Do what they had to do to take care of their people, keep them safe. Help Judith and Carl grow into good, strong people. But if there was no Glenn, Maggie would lose her heart, and that would be it.

"You're gonna be fine," she insisted. She ran a gloved hand through his damp hair, feeling the burn through the thick material. "Hurry up and take that, please."

The tone of her voice gave no room for argument, and he obliged. With a shuttering breath, he hung his arms on the lower-run of the railing. "People dyin' left an' right in here, babe. I'm trying to hold on, but I feel so goddamn weak. If the governor -"

"Shush," Maggie said, rubbing every inch of him as delicately as she could. "You don't worry about anything but getting better. We need you - _I_ need you. You focus on gettin' yourself healthy, and then we'll worry about what comes next."

Glenn smiled weakly, but nodded his agreement.

"Plus," Maggie said, playfully smiling at him, "bed's gettin' awful lonely without you..."

"I love you," Glenn said.

"I know, honey. Me too."

* * *

Beth yawned and stretched. Judith was fussing, but to her surprise, Daryl was the one the climb out of bed and snatch her up. He looked far too good, in just a pair of plain boxer shorts, cradling the baby like she was his own. He was talking to her in a low voice that Beth couldn't make out, but she smiled all the same. It was almost normal - if not for the disarray of the office they were in. Sunshine, bright and lovely, filtered through the window, and for a moment, Beth relished in it's warmth on her nude form.

"You keep doin' that, and I'm not gonna be responsible for what happens to ya," Daryl drawled. Beth stuck her tongue out at him, making him laugh, before standing and slipping on a pair of panties and his button-up flannel. Hooking only a couple buttons, she stepped over to him and the baby. Judith was picture-perfect, smiling and watching her favorite guy with big eyes and rosy cheeks. Thank goodness none of the infected had come into contact with her. If something had happened...

"You ok for a few more minutes?" Beth asked, and Daryl arched an eyebrow at her quizzically. "I gotta use the bathroom - get some water for a bottle."

"Yeah, me 'n Asskicker'll be jus' fine. Won't we girl?" he asked, and Judith giggled at him. It was too sweet.

Slipping into the hallway, confident that she was alone in the early morning, Beth smiled to herself. She was a woman now - in every way. The dull ache between her legs was proof enough, but it was more than that. Since Daryl came back, since they stayed the night together - it felt official. They may not be boyfriend-girlfriend, because honestly - that _really_ wasn't Daryl's style... But they did belong to each other now. He would protect her, and she would care for him. The thought made her heart clench and warm simultaneously.

"Beth!" a voice hissed, making her jump a foot. It was just Carl, peeking out of the doorway of a room a few down from her own. He was wearing his sheriff's hat again. It was a welcomed sight.

"Ya'll ok?" Beth asked. She was glad that Daryl's shirt was long enough to cover her most private parts, but was also very aware of the fact that she was wearing it. If anyone saw her... Well. She'd have a bit of explaining to do. However, Carl did not seem to notice.

"Yeah, we're fine. Just bored and worried and wonderin' what's going on." He seemed edgy, nervous, and she couldn't find it in herself to blame him.

"I'm going to use the bathroom - if any of ya'll need to go, come on," she said, instead of answering his unasked questions. It would be impossible - all she knew was the medicine was there, her man (_her man - _her heart skipped a beat at the posessiveness of her emotions) was in her room with the baby...

"I do!" Lizzie chirped, pushing Carl out of the way. He sent her a disgruntled glare but allowed her, and Mika, to slip through the cracked doorway.

"Me 'n Tommy can make do in here," he replied, before shutting the door.

The two little girls were adorable, and they jabbered on as the group walked to the bathroom. It was small, but it would do. Beth did a quick sweep before allowing them inside, and stood against the door while they took turns on the toilet.

"Guess what," Mika said, smiling her two-front-teeth toothless grin. Her dirty blonde hair was half-braided, slipping from it's restraints. Tenderly, Beth swept it off her face.

"What's up, sweetie?"

"Lizzie and Carl are in _looooove_," she said, singing the last word. From inside the stall, Lizzie made a protesting noise. "I saw them hold hands last night," Mika confided in a low tone.

"Is that so?" Beth asked, eyebrows raised. She'd seen the two together often, attached at the hip like Siamese twins. But Beth had never expected any _romantic_ to come from it. They were kids - yes, kids with a gun, kids at the end of the world... Shaking her head, she settled Lizzie with a serious gaze when she exited the stall. "Am I gonna have to seperate you two?"

"No!" Lizzie cried, emphatic. "We're just friends - really, really good friends. Carl was... Carl was one of the only friends I had here, at first, and he didn't like me much then. Sometimes we hold hands, but only when I'm scared. He doesn't like it," she added.

"Uh-huh," Beth said suspiciously. She locked herself in the narrow stall and did her business, thinking of how she would describe her relationship with Daryl. Minus the sex, it was kind of the same... But they were grown ups, older and wiser, and free to do what their hearts desired. When she came out of the stall, sanitizing her hands, she gave both of the girls hard, appraising looks that was rather out of character for the sensitive, gentle woman.

"I'm glad that you have friends. But you two are sisters - just like Maggie and me," she added. "You're the best friend either has got, no matter what, and you keep each other safe. I'm glad that you have Carl, Lizzie - I honestly am. But you two are young, and I don't want to have to worry about what you two are getting up to on top of everything else that goes on here. So be a good girl, think with your head, and take your time... It may not seem like we have a lot of it, but with everyone lookin' after us all, we have a lot."

Lizzie nodded, then frowned. She pointed at the dirty flannel Beth wore - of course, sans-sleeves. "Is that Daryl's shirt?"

"Nevermind that," Beth said, shooing them from the rest room. The corridors were dark and empty, papers strewn about and the benches that had been lining the walls were tipped over and ravaged. It would have been eery, but Beth was growing used to the normally frightening things these days. Nothing was as scary as losing someone you cared for, nothing was more scary that _waiting_.

* * *

Later that day, Daryl made his way down to the main cell block. Those who weren't ill were mainly there, waiting with anxious looks on their faces for any kind of news. Good or bad, they didn't really care. As long as it was _something_.

Hershel ambled down the hall, pulling the handkerchief mask from his face. The bandana made him look like a bandit, almost, and Beth would have chuckled normally. He gave the room a general smile, before disappearing into the kitchens. Stomach grumbling, Daryl left Beth to sit with her sister and went in search of some food.

"Mornin'," he said, and Carol smiled at him behind her food station. She had egges scrambled, and pieces of their recent hunt - venison - fried up as well. Her gray hair was a disheveled mess, but it somehow suited her. Daryl gave her the biggest smile he could muster.

"Good job," she said, dishing him up a big plate. "Heard you guys almost lost Tyreese - thank God," she added, "that nothing happened."

"Damn right," Daryl agreed. The two had been close since he first joined the camp, since her daughter disappeared and Daryl damn near lost his mind searching for her. It had seemed so fruitless, and though he knew it was a longshot... He wasn't gon' let a little girl get lost and eaten in the woods. Just wasn't right to have her mother there, and him not doin' nothing. So he had helped, and it had made them bond, and they were close. Good friends.

"I hear it's helpin'." Carol gave a curt nod, and Daryl felt some of the tension ease out of his shoulders. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Good enough for him to know that he risked his ass - risked never seeing Beth again - not for nothing. "Glenn's fever started breaking, few of the kids are starting to keep things down. Coughs are getting better."

"Thank God." Daryl was solemn, and Carol was surprised at the gratitude in his voice.

"Ya'll right, Pookie?" she asked. It was a gentle way of teasing him, but he still shot her a quick glare. _He_ gave the nicknames 'round here, and Pookie was not one he was willing to accept.

"Uh-huh," he grunted. "Thanks for breakfast - prolly should find Rick and Hershel and see what's going on."

Carol's eyes followed him as he exited, and there was suspicion in her steely gaze. Something was definitely different about him, something that Carol couldn't exactly put her finger on. With a defeated shrug, she moved on to dish up the next plate for the next hungry folk, but her eyes and thoughts were still on the rugged redneck.

* * *

Beth felt his eyes on her the entire day. They weren't out of each other's sight for more than a second, but rather than annoying and over-protective, Beth felt safe. She knew that he was there, ready to swoop in like a badass Robin Hood if needed. She knew that in the old days, his jealousy or possessiveness would have been tiresome. Now, it just made her feel safe, protected, cherished. Every chance they had to be alone - like when she went to the bathroom to relieve her bladder, he was waiting for her. Before she could even wash her hands, he was crushing her into a hug, burying his nose in his neck to inhale her scent. He was touching her skin, calloused fingers scraping over her sensitive neck, swatting her bottom, making her smile at his sweet kisses. He didn't speak much - he didn't need to. For Beth, Daryl was becoming a book that she had read a hundred times, and it was comforting to have him so near.

Unfortunately, people were beginning to notice.

It wasn't that Beth cared, really - if they hadn't been so far apart in age... If folks didn't think she was a child, needed to be looked after, it would have been fine. Maybe a few raised eyebrows, a few jokes about Daryl catching the youngest of the flock - he and Rick would probably have fist-bumped and then went out to shoot some deer, or whatever. But things weren't like that. Not yet.

Beth was determined to make sure that things were good, that people understood. She knew that they would view him as a lecherous older man, taking advantage of her youth, her innocence. But it wasn't that way, had never been. Yes, he'd taken her virginity, but she had laid herself out, naked and doing her best to be come-hither and seductive. But the others hadn't seen it that way, and they certainly wouldn't be so understanding. She wanted it to be quiet, discreet, until the time was precisely right.

She needed to figure out a way to make the group realize she wasn't a child. Beth knew there were only a few limited options - going on the run that one time hadn't been enough. Though the thought of the hot leather pressed between her thighs, and her arms wrapped around the strong, muscular body of the man she... _loved?_ It was sensual for her.

_Not helping_, she chastised herself at the fantasy that unraveled in her mind.

Shaking the thoughts off before she entered the big room, where everyone was waiting with anxious, worried expressions, she had to figure something out. Another time, when her face couldn't be scrutinized by everyone. She'd find it on her own time...

* * *

**Another chapter for your reading pleasure! I hope you enjoy - also, realized there were a few loose ends that I need to tie up so I'll most likely be extending the story. Also, I started working on my Carl/Lizzie piece, which is set in this universe and a few years into the future... Not many. But I'm liking where it's going, and those two are somehow so hard and so easy to write. I know a lot of people on the interwebs are not big fans of my favorite characters, but I love them, where the season is going, and where my stories are. I hope you guys do!**

**Please review if you read! Keeps the updates coming faster :]**


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Michonne was silently watching the horizon. Her eyes were always dark, constantly peeled for any movement on the skyline. She was waiting for his return, waiting for the day he came back for her. These people were stupid - keeping her there was like holding an atom bomb. She wasn't dangerous towards them, but she had a fire and ferocity within her that made her unsafe. When it came to Philip, she was a loose cannon. She wasn't someone to be trifled with, and she sure as hell had no intention of coming out alive. Michonne would fight him until one or the other or both died. There were a million different kinds of scenerios in her mind, all of them ending the same way.

Her, him, her katana through his chest. After she scooped out his other eye. She'd wait until he came back, as a walker, and then she'd do it again.

So focused, she didn't notice the scramble of footsteps coming up the ladder. It wasn't until Beth was standing beside her, hands on the rail beside Michonne's, that she acknowledged her.

"Need something?" Michonne asked cooly. The young blonde was the complete antithesis of herself. Beth was sweet, and gentle, and innocent. She was the kind of girl that rode horses and listened to pop music and chomped on bubble-gum. Pretty princess pink. Soft. Weak.

"Kind of," Beth admitted. It was obvious that Michonne intimidated her, but she wasn't going to do anything to change that. If the girl was ever going to get strong, become a fighter, she'd have to learn to stand up to people - especially the ones that were on her side. She blinked her big blue eyes, then stared at her pale fingers wrapped on the rail. "I need to make a run. I need to get out of here."

"Is it life or death?" Michonne asked.

Beth chewed her lip, and two patches of pink blossomed on her cheeks. The girl really _was_ stunning, Michonne had to admit. But she shook the thought off and returned her gaze to the edge of the woods, the long driveway that lead to their home. A few walkers roamed, groaning and shuffling weakly. In the summer, when it got hot, it was worse on them. The best time was the winter though, when they would freeze. Michonne hated cold but looked forward to it for that simple fact.

"It's not," Beth replied. "But there is something I need to get - it's personal," she added sheepishly. Michonne realized that it had to be _real_ personal to make her turn that red. But who else could the girl go to? Maggie? Michonne knew what siblings could be like, especially when you were the baby of the flock. It would be less humiliating to approach a stranger - or, a relative stranger - for such things. Who was the lucky guy? Michonne had her suspicions.

"I just need everyone to realize I'm not a child, and while I do _need_ something," Beth went on, "I just need to get out of here. Leave, come back, and maybe then people will see me as more than a simple child."

Michonne sympathized, but her face was set. Calm and cool and collected, the mask she always wore when around others.

"It just sucks, is all," Beth said in a smaller voice. She turned her baby-blues on Michonne once more. "Will you help?"

"If this is all for a redneck," Michonne drawled, voice bored and even - though Beth immediately gasped in surprise, "and we get killed... I'm gonna come back and haunt this whole prison."

* * *

They'd been staying in the administrative building, just to be safe. Beth and Judith were quickly becoming even closer than before, considering that everyone else was coming into contact with those that were healing. Their numbers had thinned again - many of the elderly from Woodbury had been hit too hard, and were too weak to fight the virus even with medicine. It seemed like Glenn had made a nearly full recovery, was back in his and Maggie's room - but they weren't taking any chances. Rick had only glimpsed Judith through the crack in the door, smiling brighter than the sun at his beautiful baby girl. She was healthy, Beth was healthy - it seemed smartest to keep them there together. Daryl and Beth hadn't taken the risk of making love again while the baby was in the room, especially since he'd been busy digging graves for those the illness had stolen.

It was a week later when he came around, fresh from a shower, hair still wet. Beth could have died on the spot, seeing him like that. It was late at night, and the children were sleeping soundly across the hall. One of the older boys from Woodbury, a kid named Henry, was watching them now - Beth had made sure there wasn't any funny business going on between Carl and Lizzie, but she'd been young once, too. Hopefully, even with teenage supervision, the two wouldn't take advantage of the desperate times.

"Missed you," Beth mumbled into his neck. It was weird, and happy, how things had changed. He'd been pushing her away for so long, pretending to ignore her longing looks and she had been blushing under his scrutiny. In only a few weeks, they had gone from acquaintances, neighbors, survivors in the same sanctuary, to lovers. The term made her heart bubble with warmth.

"Yeah?" Daryl asked, disbelieving. He shook his head, but pressed a gentle kiss to her mouth. He wasn't sure what the hell had happened, how he managed to snatch up the sweetest, most gorgeous woman left on the face of the earth. Even before, when the world had been normal and people hadn't been rising from the dead to eat the living, he would have been attracted to her. But Beth was the kind of woman that would never have given him a second glance. She would have been disdainful of his tattoos, his dirty appearance, ragged clothes. Church girl like Beth, she would've seen right through him.

"Come here," she said, pulling him by his shirt. Smiling in spite of himself, he indulged her. Daryl could easily have withstood her attention, but he simply didn't want to. He let her push him onto the makeshift bed, smirking at her as she straddled his middle. Her long blonde hair fell in loose waves around her face, half-way down her back. It was much longer than he'd realized - usually, pulled up into messy ponytails, he had no idea.

"What did _you_ do today?" she asked, but her fingers were making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. Pushing it out of the way, she pressed a hot trail of kisses down his chest, pausing over the tattoo above his heart. Her hot tongue blazed a sinful trail there, circling his nipple. Who the hell was this temptress? Maybe the time apart was making her bold, making her take advantage while she had the time. He wasn't complaining. He was in awe.

"Dug graves," Daryl grunted, before grabbing her face and pulling her down for a kiss. He would never grow tired of this. While her previous actions were bold, brazen, her mouth was sweet and the tiniest bit shy. She tasted sweet and he plunged his tongue into her mouth, seeking out her taste and feel and growling when she nipped his lower lip between her teeth.

He slid his hands over her smooth skin, lifting the material of her flimsy tank top. She didn't wear a bra beneath it - he'd only seen the one, and wondered if it was the only one she had. Maybe next trip into town, he'd find her something... Something silky, lacy. Something sexy to cup those beautiful orbs and make him crazy. Once the offending material was gone, he smiled at her. Blush crept over her chest and cheeks, but she made no move to cover herself. Daryl smiled at her, tired, but in no mood to cease their actions.

Once his lips were at her breast, tugging a nipple between his teeth roughly, she was moaning. It was a sound he would never grow used to, never tire of. He pulled her forward, so her breasts hung over his face, and suckled and teased while she whined and squirmed above him. It was doing wonderful things for where their bodies met... He was instantly hard, the moment he saw her, but having her like this... He needed to be inside of her, soon.

Beth sat back, grinding her hips gracelessly against his, going on pure feeling. There was something so sexy about it, about her trying to find a way to assuage the lusty pull in her loins without worrying about him or how she looked. Growling, he went to flip them over - but her hands pressed on his shoulders and she smiled down at him.

"Haven't you worked hard enough today?" she asked, a teasing glint in her eyes.

_Fuck_. He was not expecting that.

She slipped down, unfastening his jeans and sliding them along with his boxers off. His erection sprang free, throbbing and hard, and Beth licked her lips as she stared at it. Thank God he took that shower...

Beth had never gotten so up-close and personal with the male genitalia before. She studied it, fingers brushing lightly over the skin. The slit at the top was leaking, and with bravery she hadn't known she posessed, Beth leaned forward and swiped her tongue over it. Daryl's tummy muscles clenched, and his hips arched. She liked that, a lot. Fingers tracing the V-cut of muscles that seemed to point towards his manhood, Beth let her mouth trail little kisses all over his length. When she finally opened her mouth wide, curling her lips around her teeth, and sucked him into her mouth...

"_Mother fucker,"_ Daryl grit out. His hands were clenching the sheets, eyes closed and head thrown back. Smiling around his cock, Beth took him in further, using her tongue and the saliva that gathered in her mouth to make a wet, delicious friction. When her nose hit the curly hairs at the base of his cock, she pulled back. Daryl was staring at her with fascination and dark, lusty heat. His blue eyes seemed to glow in their makeshift bedroom.

"You do that much longer 'n I ain't gonna last, girl," he said, and though Beth assumed he meant it as a threat, she couldn't remove her mouth from him. Watching the reactions she incited was too delicious. Beth found a rhythm, bouncing her head up and down on his hard dick, enjoying the moans and hisses and mutters he made until he grasped her hair and pulled her away.

"I plan on makin' love to ya," he said, face flushed and voice husky.

Beth rolled her eyes but pushed him back down. He rolled to his pants, fishing in a pocket until he pulled out a foil pocket. Condom. They hadn't used one last time... Shaking off her worry, focusing on the now, Beth opened it and slipped it on, just as she had during sex education class on the bananas. Daryl made a move to switch their positions, but Beth's hands on his chest, nails digging into his flesh, stopped him. She kneeled above his erection, one hand holding it to guide inside of her.

Inch by inch, she sank down. It felt... It felt a hundred times better than last time. The feel of him, filling her up slowly, creating that friction deep, _deep_ inside of her. Once she was fully seated, Daryl arched up a little and pulled her hips down so he could grind against her. The feeling was so much, too much, and Beth was brimming with liquid fire and electricity. She threw her head back, arching her back so her pebbled nipples were thrust into the air. Daryl couldn't resist tweaking one peak, eliciting a low moan from the beautiful woman in front of him.

"Dammit," he growled. "You'd better get t'movin' or -"

Beth rose, then sank back down. She leaned forward to brace her hands on his shoulders, eyes falling shut as she struggled to find a rythm that would satisfy them both. It felt so good to be on top, her thighs astride him, feeling his cock slide out of her before thrusting back in. There was a spot that he hit, only a few times, that made her toes curl and a strangled noise to leave her throat. Her vision was hazy, mind clouded by the luscious fire that combusted within her - she hardly noticed when he nudged her over, pushing her down onto her stomach.

Daryl kneeled behind her. The sight of her ass, back arched so it was up in the air, was enough to make him groan loudly. Her wet, glistening pink pussy was exposed and open to his eyes. He'd never seen a prettier pussy. Leaning forward, he let himself lick her hole a few times, delving his tongue inside. She wiggled beneath him, but his hands were on her plump ass, kneading, keeping her spread and open and he loved every minute of it. But he couldn't hold out. He leaned over her, guiding his cock into her tight entrance. They both sighed at the delicious sensation of him filling her her. Draped over her, Daryl kissed and nipped her neck and inhaled her scent. She was sweating, hair sticking to skin, but he brushed it out of her face and kissed her temple.

"So fucking pretty," he whispered, as his hips slapped against her ass. It made the best noise.

"Feels so good," Beth whimpered in return.

"Yeah, baby? You like it?" he drawled. He flicked his hips quick, almost punishing, against her. It wasn't too much longer before her legs began to quiver. She was close. Daryl knew he wouldn't be much longer, either. "You taste so good... I could eat you for hours."

"So do you," Beth panted. "I loved feeling you in my mouth -"

"Gonna come," Daryl said, cutting her off. His dark hair was plastered against his face, sweat dripping down his neck and back. He couldn't keep this up, couldn't hear her tell him that she loved sucking his dick. He wanted nothing more than to come in her sweet little mouth, see his seed all over her lips and cheeks and -

"Ooooh," Beth moaned, high and drawn out as her body clenched and squeezed him. He was quickly behind, letting her muscles milk him of his orgasm even as his hips still worked against her. Finally, Daryl collapsed on top of her, loving the feel of her soft back against his chest. She never mentioned his scars, which was a good thing. He was thankful that she'd never went through something so ugly. They caught their breath, comfortable with each other, until Daryl rolled over and tossed an arm over his eyes.

"I should get back," he said, and Beth shot him a glare.

"No way," she said, shaking her head. "You're staying right here..." She wrapped herself around him, tangling legs and arms and lacing her fingers into his. "I hate when you leave," she admitted.

He was inwardly flummoxed. It was more than sex - he wasn't stupid enough to believe that it was just that. Daryl needed this little girl more than he needed oxygen or food. She kept him going, every fucking day, and the swift change in their relationship was dizzying and lovely. He would rather wake up beside her than on his own, but it was risky. He knew the others in the prison would be shocked at their relationship, upset. He didn't want to think about what Rick would say, or Carol. He frowned, hoping she wouldn't be hurt that he had turned her down so long ago... Then taken up with a much younger woman.

"At least 'til I fall asleep," Beth pleaded, in a small voice. Daryl sighed, but nodded. How could he leave when her soft, warm body was tucked up against him? Sometimes, she felt so small and fragile in his arms, he was terrified to let her go. If something happened to her...

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and stroked a hand over her back. Daryl would worry about these things another time, when the object of his affection - obsession - wasn't pressed against him, purring with contentment. That could wait.

* * *

**And here's some lemon. In case you wanted it! Also, things are going to start picking up from here. People make bad decisions sometimes... Y'know? *evil grin.* Anyway, hope you enjoyed, please read and review. Hopefully will have time to update tomorrow, not sure I will... Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing. Please feel free to message me! I like to chat!**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

He'd been doing it again. Slipping down to her cell, crawling into bed with her. In the middle of the night, when the only folk awake were the ones up in the watch tower, Daryl made his way to Beth. She would fall asleep, and when he arrived, she would scoot over to make room for him. He would wrap his arms around her, hold her as tightly as he could against his chest, until his heart calmed down. It was damned stupid, he knew, to worry so desperately over a woman. But until he was safely in bed with Beth, he couldn't relax. And even once he was in bed, his body would react to her close vicinity. She was beautiful, an angel with blonde hair tangled over the pillow. She always smelled so damn good, he couldn't full relax until she would roll over and smile at him, half awake, big blue eyes groggy.

"Long day?" she would ask, or something 'long those lines.

"Longest ever."

And then he would be kissing her, careless about her breath and eager to feel every inch of her beautiful skin. They were always quiet, always safe - waking up Judith would wake the whole cell block, and that was the last thing they needed. No, Daryl took his time, worked her up into a frenzy before he thought about his own pleasure. He was becoming an addict to Beth; her soft, breathy moans and the lines of her slender body. When she let him taste her, for as long as he wanted, it was heaven. Face buried in her sweet little pussy, licking and sucking and kissing her velvety folds... He only came up to breathe, didn't stop until he was satisfied that she had come as many times as she could.

Then he would take her, slide his cock deep inside her, and make her come some more.

Daryl had never lusted or wanted a woman so much before. He'd never cared if they reached orgasm or not, never mattered much to him. So long as he got his fill, that was what mattered. But with Beth, he wanted to make sure that every moment was good, that each orgasm was better than the last, that her toes would curl and her stomach muscles would clench. He adored her small chest, the little pink nipples that were hard before he could even touch them. Loved the way she wanted him, the way he turned her on. Made no sense - he was an old redneck, he was gruff and unfriendly, he was the kind of man her father would have kept her far away from. _Should _have kept her far away from...

But it was too late now. Nothing would keep Daryl from Beth, not hell or high water or a million walking dead. She belonged to him, _with_ him, forever. He'd do whatever it took to keep her safe.

He'd kiss her sleeping face, taking long moments to just gaze at her, heart swelling with emotion, until he had to leave. He was always back in his cell by first light, leaving no one suspicious of his whereabouts. It came in handy, being known as a lone wolf. No one questioned where he went, what he did. As long as he kept their bellies full and the walkers away...

* * *

Beth was awake that morning when Daryl left. She had tried hard to control her breathing, keep her face sleepy and neutral, so he would suspect her feint. But she had plans today, with Michonne, and they were going out to find more medicine. It had gone quickly, and while most everyone was feeling better, it wouldn't hurt to have more. And then, _maybe_, everyone would begin to see her as a grown up. Would make the realization that she and Daryl were _together_ a bit easier on everyone.

Beth knew what people would think. That he was taking advantage of her, that he was abusing her. But it wasn't like that, had never been like that. She might not have been the pursuer, but she definitely nudged them in the right direction. That first night they were together - in the administrative room - had been the best of her life. She was happy that he was willing to let it continue, that he seemed to have feelings for her as well. Daryl wasn't a man of many words, but it felt good to have him with her every night, even if he had to sneak away before the sun was up.

If this trip went as planned - if Beth could accomplish this goal, come back in one piece with things the community needed - then maybe Daryl wouldn't feel like he needed to protect her either. Maybe he would see her as his equal, as someone he could depend on, too. That's all she wanted - _him_. In every way, shape, and form. Being the weaker of the two, having him worrying about her constantly, was a distraction. It'd get in the way, and she couldn't have that. She needed to be strong for him, be good for him. This had to work.

Michonne was waiting and ready to go by the gate. The sun wasn't up yet - just a gray streak of lightening sky above the tree line. They had planned it out together, secretly, which had been difficult enough. They'd take her horse, as it would draw less attention. Ride about twenty miles to a small town, called Addison, which Beth vaguely remembered her school playing in football. Her memory of the town was foggy, as she had gone to the away game with her girlfriends and was more focused on scoping cute guys than the actual town. But she remembered it's small pharmacy, the grocery store, a library and tanning salon. She was certain that they could find something out there.

"You ready?" Michonne asked, arching a quizzical eyebrow. She was giving Beth an out.

"Very. Lets go." She flashed a smile and the two women climbed on the horse. It was difficult to get them both out, but once it was managed, and they were on the outside of the fence, there was no turning back. A walker groaned a hello at them, feebly limping through the long grass.

The ride was quiet, but Beth was happy to be back on a horse. Fleetingly, she remembered that _Daryl_ had been the one to lose her favorite horse... Shaking her head, she smiled. Nothing she could do about it now.

The sun felt good on her neck, and the silence from Michonne was welcomed. Not that Beth needed more time with her thoughts, but it gave her time to focus on what they were doing. More medicine, hopefully some pain medication, general cold and flue things, alka-seltzer... She had a backpack ready to be filled up. Maybe she'd even find some more books, age-appropriate ones, for the kids. She was so distracted that she didn't notice when Michonne slowed down, the clip-clop of horse hooves quieting.

"Someone's been here," Michonne said, her deep voice steady but full of insinuation.

"Recently?" Beth asked. She noticed the foot prints in the dusty road. There were two sets, and then the mess of walker limps. It was easy to tell the difference.

"Don't know," Michonne said. "But we'd better keep going - I wouldn't want to be here when they returned." She heeled the horse, and they were trotting again. Beth held onto the woman a little tighter now, fear creeping into her stomach. Perhaps it was just those men that she and Daryl had run into before - there wasn't any blood, so hopefully nothing bad had come to them. They'd seemed so nice.

When they reached the town, the sun was midway towards the middle of the sky. Better timing than Beth had expected. It was deserted - cars were left in the middle of the road, tattered American flags wavered in the light breeze. A few of the storefront windows were broken out - obviously the town had been looted before. An uneasy feeling settled over her, and Beth kept her blue eyes peeled for danger. When they climbed from the horse, tying it to one of the lamp-posts to make sure it didn't run off on them, Michonne unsheathed her katana. Beth had her hunting knife in hand, as well.

Maybe it was dumb to have not told anyone they were leaving... Beth was beginning to regret it, but determination kept her going.

"We do this quick and clean. In and out." Michonne nodded at the big 'Weatherwax Pharmacy' sign above the store. The door hung open, half on it's hinges. "If there isn't anything in there..."

"I'm not leaving empty-handed," Beth insisted.

Michonne didn't reply, but stealthily crept towards the pharmacy. It was getting hot today, and sweat rolled down the back of her neck. She wanted to get this over with, was inwardly cursing herself. She knew what Beth was trying to prove and she understood why. There was something going on between her and the redneck, and while Michonne could have cared less about what the two got up to... Beth was the baby of their original group, and she supposed people weren't going to take too kindly to her and the older man getting frisky.

Personally, Michonne thought that whatever kept the people happy, kept them fighting for survival, couldn't be a bad thing.

Inside of the store, it was silent. No shuffling, no deadly groans. There wasn't even blood smeared on the floor. It was clean, though by no means neat, and she felt a bit of relief when at that. Beth pushed her hair out of her face and headed to the back of the store, behind the counter. There were plenty of things strewn across the floor - magazines, torn up newspapers and cans of food. They'd grab some baby formula, maybe even some canned foods for Judith, too. But her main priority was behind the glass. The medication.

"Looks good," Michonne said, and Beth nodded. They hopped over the counter, eyes raking over the shelves of bottles. Beth remembered a few of the names of certain antibiotics - Keflex, Amoxacilin - and she frantically, with shaky hands, fingered the plastic bottles until she found what she needed. She pulled off her backpack and began filling it up. She grabbed the narcotic painkillers, too - never knew when they might come in handy. Satisfied that she had gotten everything they needed, Beth turned to Michonne.

"Might need these," she said, holding up a handful of vials. "Birth control shots. We can get syringes, too - these are supposed to last for three months at a time. Better than condoms."

Beth blushed, but nodded. They took them as well, plus the wheels of little pills that would keep them from releasing eggs. It was better to be safe, than sorry.

Once they were finished with the behind-the-counter, Beth grabbed up the Sudafed and the Nyquil, and her backpack was easily filling up. And fast. There would be no room for reading material for the kids, but she grabbed some half-melted crayons and some chalk. At least they'd be able to use that outdoors, in the sunlight. It would be good for them.

"You ready?" Michonne asked, standing in the doorway. Beth nodded. Peering through the shards that were left of the window, the two women paused. The horse was surrounded by walkers.

"Crap," Beth muttered. "I can distract them."

"You sure?" Michonne asked levely.

Beth nodded, then ducked out of the door. She hadn't had to run for a while, but she had always been quick. "Hey! Hey, you creepy freaks! Come on!" She shouted and whistled clapping her hands. They were weak, and slow, but they turned from the big brown mare and started to sluggishly lumber towards her. Michonne's blade slashed through the air, slicing a walker through the top of his head to his middle, a clean cut down his spine. Beth was jogging in zig-zags; a walker grasped onto her backpack. She wasn't dropping it, not for anything, and she kicked firmly to push him back.

"Come on!" Michonne called, already up in the saddle. With a burst of speed, Beth cantered to the big brown mare, swinging herself up expertly.

"That was close," Beth panted, lightly holding on to Michonne's waist as they trotted away.

"_Too_ close," the woman grunted. They continued in silence, the sun rising and baking above them. Beth was thankful for her supplies, glad that her instincts had kept her safe. She hadn't had to deal with many walkers, up close and personal, but it was good to know that if she had to... Well, at least she could out run them. There wasn't any shame in that, not when it meant that she could get away safely.

* * *

With a stretch and a yawn, Daryl woke and rose. He felt good, having slept the majority of his night beside the blonde woman that had somehow snared him. He could still smell the scent of her shampoo, and he remembered the way she nuzzled her little nose against his chest, sighing contentedly when he crawled into her bed. It was an average night, but even his most average nights were becoming extrordinary. Not that he would admit it, or let it show on his face. Instead, he shrugged on his vest and hefted his bow over his shoulder. He shoved his feet into boots and lumbered down to the great room.

Immediately, he knew that something was wrong.

"She's gone! They both are!" Maggie was screaming. Her face was flushed red and her arms were waving wildly. "They disappeared in the middle of the night and Michonne's horse is gone too!"

"Then they weren't taken," Rick said. "They must have - I don't know, went on some kind of run -"

"Without running it by the group?" Hershel asked, his old eyes looking more tired than Daryl had ever seen them.

"What's goin' on?" Daryl asked, stomping down the steps heavily.

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest, fixing her glare on him. He didn't think it was personal; the girl was mad. And Maggie was fierce, even without anger. "Michonne and Beth are gone."

"Gone...?" His heart hammered wildly in his chest. A _whomp whomp whomp_ noise rang in his ears, and Daryl realized it was the heavy beat of his pulse. The world seemed to move in slow motion for a moment - Rick cursed, ran his fingers through his hair. Glenn frowned and gazed at the open door, as though the two would come strolling up, laughing and calling out, "Gotcha!" Carl, in his sheriff's hat, perched on the edge of a table beside Lizzie. She was clutching his hand tightly.

"They had to leave in the middle of the night, when no one was awake," Hershel said.

"Maggie and I would have seen them -" Glenn started to say.

"We all know how _distracted_ you two can get," Daryl spat angrily. He was moving without thinking, pushing Carol's concerned hand away from him. "Damn girl," he muttered under his breath.

"We've gotta go find them," Maggie cried. "They could be anywhere -"

"What were they _thinking_?" Carol asked. Her voice was thick, threatening tears. It took a lot to make the woman cry these days, and under any other circumstances, Daryl would have put an arm around her bony shoulders to comfort her. But he couldn't. His heart was frozen, barely beating, and his brain was a haze.

_Beth was gone. She was gone._

"Couldn't have left til this morning," Daryl murmured quietly. Rick glanced at him, lifting an eyebrow.

"It's the only time no one would have noticed -"

"I was with her 'til about dawn," Daryl replied, eyes downcast. He couldn't see the looks on his folks' faces at that. Didn't want to see the shame and disapproval written all over the faces that normally saw him as a hero, a savior, someone that kept them safe and fed. They'd look at him like the dirty old man that he was, now.

"With her?" Rick echoed, his voice surprised.

"What -" Maggie lunged towards him, grabbed the front of his vest. Her green eyes were wild, dangerous. "If you did something to her, I swear to _God_, Dixon -"

"I didn't do _nothing_," Daryl said, gently pushing her back.

"With her?" Rick's voice repeated. His blue gaze was suspicious, disbelieving - Daryl felt the guilt press on him, the fear that he'd been holding for so long making his shoulders feel heavier. He had been hoping for more time - a little bit longer, just the two of them. A little longer before the real world crashed in and ruined the perfection of their intimacy. It had to happen sometime, Daryl knew that. Realistically, he realized there would never be a 'perfect moment' for the truth to come out. At the same time, he was hoping that Beth would at least be with him. That they could face their people, their _kin_, together.

But she was gone. In an instant, the guilt morphed into panic and his chest constricted as he tried to breathe.

"We gotta get them," Daryl said. "We gotta go."

"We don't know where they are - if they're in danger," Glenn said, trying to be the voice of reason.

"What do you mean, _with her_?" Hershel asked. It was the question no one wanted to ask. It was the question on all of their minds.

"Ain't got time for this now," Daryl spat, boiling with anger. "Ya'll can lecture and be mad later. But -" He swallowed thickly, shook his head. "Beth is out there."

"He's right," Rick said. With a grim look towards his right-hand man, the sheriff put his hands on his hips and shook his head. The heavy silence stretched between the group, for a few beats.

The only thing on Daryl's mind was blue eyes and blonde hair and fair skin and the most beautiful smile in the world. He would bring her back, come hell or high water. And if he couldn't... If they were too late...

Well, he'd just have to deal with that when and if it happened.

* * *

**Sorry about the delay! I've been working a lot (major bummer) and sick. Plus, I don't have internet at my house, so I have to go to friend's/family to use their net. And that just gets annoying sometimes... Sorry guys. You know I love you. I hope you enjoy the chapter, please let me know! I'll be doing a double update, and things are about to get crazy... I'm not one hundred percent happy about the ending of this chapter, but I needed to transition into the next. So while I'm like, meeeeh, I'm pretty excited about the next one! Also, I've started working on the Carl/Lizzie sequel. I'm a little bit torn on how to do it, but I know what I want to do and what I want to happen. It's probably going to be lowered to T, rating wise, because I'm not into writing child pornography... But who knows, maybe I'll make them older. Like I said, it's kind of slow going.**

**If you're on TUMBLR, find me at - idreamoffrankie - for updates, personal stuff, and lots of pretty pictures & gifs. Leave me a review on here and let me know what you think or if you're mad or happy or whatever! Reviews get me posting! **


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

They were at the midway point, between the prison and town, when Beth heard it. The sound of an engine, even distantly, was enough to make both women tense and Michonne to still the horse. The sun blazed hotly overhead, and a bead of sweat rolled impassively down Beth's hair line.

"What is that?" Beth asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Michonne shook her head subtly. "Don't care to find out." She went to hitch the reins, but the noise grew louder, closer, and a big truck - Beth instantly recognized the Chevy logo on the grill - pulled into view. Though it was just cresting a hill in the distance, it was close enough and Beth knew that it belonged to the two men that she and Daryl had ran into on the last run she had done. Her shoulders sagged slightly with relief.

"Daryl and I -" she started, but her blue eyes caught the look on Michonne's face. It was fierce - distrustful, calculating. Instead, Beth asked, "Can we out run them?"

The truck's engine grew closer. The KC lights on the overhead rack glowed, even in the daylight. At the speed they were coming, there was no way the horse would out pace them. Even if it did, they would only lead them to the prison. With growing dread and anxiety, Beth realized they had no choices. They had to face them, and without Daryl there to protect her, she felt grim at best.

"Don't speak," Michonne instructed. "I'll do the talking."

That was fine with Beth. She wrapped her arms tighter around Michonne, who was as stiff as a stone. But it was still a comfort to feel the solid strength beneath her hands. Beth watched the truck pull up beside them, and was torn between fear and relief when she recognized the teenage boy - the one with the lip piercing and black clothes, even in the middle of summer - behind the wheel. There was another man riding passenger, and he leaned over to gaze at Michonne and Beth through the driver's side window.

"Afternoon," he drawled. Beth felt dirty looking at him - greased back hair, thin, shaggy beard that looked like something a teenager would proudly deem a beard.

"Hey," Kevin added. Michonne's chin tilted a fraction, the only hello they would get.

"You ladies need sanctuary?" asked the older guy. Beth wondered why they used that word again - it must have been what they called their home. _Weird_, she decided. She swatted a few loose blonde strands out of her face and turned her gaze to Michonne's broad, hard shoulders. She wouldn't even look at them - maybe it would help this go by faster. The night that she and Daryl ran into the men, they had seemed polite at the very least. Maybe suspicious, but it was safer to be that way these days. The governor was proof enough of that. Beth wished desperately that they had told _someone_ of their plans, even if it meant they would have been stopped.

"We've got out own," Michonne said coldly.

"See, that's real funny," said the other man. He was climbing out of the truck, and Beth let out a startled cry when he aimed his sawed-off shot gun at them. "You _had_ your own. Now you're gonna come with us."

There was a long, tense pause. Michonne was on a horse - they had a truck. She had a katana - Beth had a hunting knife, but no gun. They were damn stupid to grow so complacent that they left the prison without a fire arm... But even if they had, it wouldn't have mattered - the man could fire on them before either would be able to draw a weapon. Michonne huffed out a low breath, and Beth knew that they weren't getting away. In a moment that seemed to last an hour, she thought of all of her loved ones in the prison - Maggie, Hershel, Glenn, Rick, Carl, Judith, Carol, little Lizzie... And finally, the rugged, handsome face of Daryl flashed into her mind, blue eyes piercing through to her heart. It clenched, filled with horrifying fear and the cold dread of realization that she may never see them again.

"That's right," the man said. Kevin was idle behind the wheel, hands relaxed and expression bored. Beth didn't like that - there was a routine to this that made him comfortable, she thought. "Ya'll gonna get off that horse and get in the truck now. Be good girls."

Michonne slid off reluctant, then helped Beth down. The blonde was trembling so badly, eyes filled with unshed tears, that she had no choice but to help her to the big, lifted truck. Her hands were firm on Beth's shoulders, telling of strength and confidence, but it did little to make Beth's resolve stronger. The man lowered his rifle as they climbed in, taking a moment to catch a strand of Beth's blonde hair between his dirty fingers.

"They gon' like you a lot, chicky," he said, before laughing.

Beth felt Michonne haul her up before the tears began to fall.

* * *

No one was speaking to him. Daryl wasn't sure if it was a result of his truth, shocking folks into judgmental silence, or fear. He wasn't the friendliest man on the best of days, and after admitting that he had spent the night with the girl... No one was sure what to make. No one wanted the wrath of an angry Daryl Dixon on them. People were worried about him, about _her_. Beth was the baby of the group, the one everyone always looked out for. Aside from Lil Asskicker, of course. She never had to do no hard work, never got her hands too dirty... 'Less she was doing their laundry or changing a diaper. But she was out with Michonne, who was a capable fighter, a woman with strength more than some men that Daryl knew. Woman was like a stone soldier.

But she had Beth with her, and that made Daryl mighty worried. On her own, Michonne could take care of herself. However, when it came to Beth, Daryl didn't trust anyone but himself to keep her safe.

What was she thinking, runnin' off without him? Daryl shook his head, gazed at the dirt road leading to their prison home. Neither woman had a gun. Travelin' on a damn horse. He shook his head and cursed, for the millionth time that day, and kicked at the dirt. He was so distracted that he didn't notice Rick ambling down towards him.

"Hey," the sheriff said. Daryl glanced up to him quickly, squinting his blue eyes menacingly. "I ain't here to talk to ya -"

"Then whatcha want?" Daryl snapped.

Rick's hands went to his hips, slipping into police mode. It was second nature to him, after so many years on the service. "We're gonna make a search group - they been gone too long."

"Think I don't know that?" Daryl asked. "Think I don't know she's out there, that somethin' coulda happened to her?" His voice was rising. He wasn't mad at Rick - hell, he was barely even mad at Beth, if he was honest with himself. If it was anyone's fault, it was Daryl's. She was only trying to prove that she didn't need taking care of. Trying to prove she was a grown woman, one that he needn't worry after. But this was further proof - she was a damn baby, and her teenage mind wasn't mature enough to make such big decisions.

Decisions like _sleeping_ with him...

"I don't know _what_ you're thinkin'," Rick said, shaking his head. His bright eyes were wary. "Couldn't have been thinkin' too much, takin' up with Beth. She's a child!"

"Ain't a child," Daryl said, shaking his head. "She's young, but she's a woman. And she's innocent - that ain't a crime."

"Just how innocent?" Rick asked, and there was insinuation in his words. Daryl could feel them on him like a blinding interrogation light. Felt enough of those in his earlier days... His stomach clenched with guilt, and he gazed to his boots. "That's what I thought. Beth's a kid, Daryl. How could you let this happen? How could you -"

"I know," Daryl sighed. "But that ain't the point now, is it? It's done. It's happened. I - I -" He stumbled over his words, and Rick's expression softened fractionally. "I gotta get her back here, man. I gotta get her here, and safe."

"And then?" Rick asked. "And then what, Daryl?"

Daryl shook his head. He knew what he wanted to do - crush her up in his arms, so tight he might break a rib or two, kiss her hard on the lips and then every other inch of her, just to be sure she was safe. But he knew that wasn't what Rick was asking. It was an ultimatum. Daryl didn't care much for those, but he understood where the man was coming from. Though, he had only just returned to a more sane version of himself, so maybe Rick wasn't the best person to be pointing any fingers.

"When we leavin'?" he asked instead, bypassing Rick's question.

Sighing, Rick lowered his head, shoulders sagged. "Soon. Figured you, Tyreese, Glenn, Maggie, and me - we'll go in two teams, split up. Cover more ground." Daryl nodded, agreeing. The two men headed up to the vehicles, where everyone was congregating. Maggie and Glenn were both wearing Kevlar suits, fearing the worst - the governor. And having Beth with Michonne in that case - a whole new wave of dread washed over Daryl. He was sure that he had never felt worse - more afraid, more guilty - in his entire life. Not when he was takin' lickin's from his pa, not when he was wild and out of his mind looking for Sophia.

His woman was out there, and he just _felt_ that there was something wrong. Shouldn't take a whole damn day to make a run, not unless they ran into trouble. It wasn't good.

Maggie glared at him as he approached, and Daryl felt his cheeks and neck turn red. How the hell was he supposed to talk to these people? Now that they knew what he and Beth were doing... Maybe it would have been different if it came out better, if they started 'dating' or courting or whatever the hell it was that people did before they started sleeping together...

"This is all your fault," Maggie spat at him, her green eyes fiery. "If it weren't for you, corrupting her -"

"That's enough," Glenn said, grabbing his wife's arm. "You aren't helping anything."

"It's not Daryl's fault," Hershel said, putting a hand on his daughter's shoulder. Maggie glanced at her father, mouth open to protest, but he shook his head. "Beth is a smart girl. She knows her own mind - no way a man would ever have enough influence over her to make her do something."

Daryl ducked his head, unwilling to meet the man's eyes. He was ashamed of himself. He should've asked permission, or made his intentions known - damn, shoulda done _anything_ other than what they had done.

"I'll get her back," he said, raising his face to the older man's. His dirty beard and long hair were in dire need of wash, and there seemed to be more worry lines than every tracing Hershel's face. His eyes weren't exactly kind, but they weren't harsh either. They were solemn, somber, serious - he wanted his daughter back safely, just as much as Daryl.

"I hope so, son," Hershel said. "I sure as hell hope so."

* * *

"Where are you taking us?" Beth asked. She had gone from stony, frightened silence to hysteria. Michonne was quiet beside her, but her body was tense, like a spring coiled tightly. Ready to pounce. The two men were leisurely positioned, relaxed. Kevin was even drinking, a bottle of beer in his hand as he steered over the hills and ruts. They were deeper in the forrest, a make-shift route, and the ride was not smooth. Beth was bouncing all over, but braced her hands on the backs of the seats in front of her as she railed against them. "You can't do this! People will come for us!"

"That's fine, peach," the older guy said. He smiled at her over his shoulder. "We got people, too. More guns than this one." He winked and patted his shotty.

"Kevin," Beth said, her voice pleading, "just let us go! You and your dad were so nice - what -"

"Dad ain't doin' much talkin' these days," Kevin said coldly. He glared at the windshield until he suddenly hit the brakes and threw the truck into park. Michonne calmly surveyed the surroundings - the middle of the woods, no camp in sight. Beth was too busy crying and shivering, her fear getting the better of her. As the men climbed out, whooping and making all kinds of racket - surely enough to scare up some walkers - Michonne turned to Beth.

"We're going to survive this," the strong, dark woman said calmly. Beth gasped for breath, until Michonne slapped her firmly across the cheek. There was a red mark, which Michonne regretted, but she needed the blonde to have a level, calm head too. The only way they would get out alive was if they were smart. If they were collected. Beth seemed to jerk out of her hysterics with the slap, blue eyes shocked.

"Whu-"

"Shut up, and listen to me. We're going to live. You're going to see your redneck again." Michonne thought bringing up Daryl might give Beth more incentive to get it together. It seemed to do the trick - her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. "Just be docile. Do what they say. And watch - take note of every detail, even the little insignificant things. Just keep your eyes open, don't say a word. Stay. _Alive_."

Beth nodded, her chest rising and falling with her calming breaths. She knew she must do exactly as Michonne said. She _had_ to live, had to come through this. No way was this morning the last time she was going to kiss Daryl. They had a long life together - and if she made it through this, she would make sure that _everyone_ knew.

"Let's go."

* * *

**And there you have it! Sorry, bit of a cliffhanger! Don't kill me! **


	17. Chapter 17

**sorry for the delay! without much ado, here is the continuation... hope you enjoy! **

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

Stepping out of the vehicle on shaky legs, Beth glanced around. There were trees everywhere. Kevin and the other guy were standing around, gazing upwards. Beth followed their eyes, and held in a gasp. There were platforms up there - _treehouses._ It was genius. Walkers couldn't climb trees, it was safer up there. Shaking her head at the ingenuity, she took advantage of their distraction. Sending a glance to Michonne, who was eyeing the men distrustfully, Beth slipped her blade from the sheath. She knicked her palm, hissing almost silently, before smearing her hand all over one of the trees and a few leaves of a little bush nearby.

Daryl was a tracker. This was the least she could do. No way he would miss the messy 'D' she had made with her blood.

"C'mon ya'll," Kevin laughed. "Got us some live ones!"

Michonne seemed to roll her eyes, but Beth skipped to her side. She held Michonne's hand with the one that wasn't bleeding, holding the other behind her back. They still had their weapons - maybe they should take the opportunity to kill these men - but a rope ladder unfurled from above. The others they talked of were just above them, probably with better weapons than a katana and hunting knife. Beth felt inadequate.

"I surely like that blade," the other man said.

"I'm sure you do," Michonne replied sarcastically.

"I'll be takin' it off ya hands then," he said. Rolling her big brown eyes, Michonne handed it over - quickly, as he pointed his shotgun at her. "That knife too, blondie." Beth unsheathed it again and tossed it to his feet. She saw the balding patch at the back of his head as he bent to retrieve it. "Now, you nice little girls are gonna be good. You're our _guests_," he emphasized the word, "and we don't treat our guests badly. Do we, boy?"

"No, sir, Travis. We sure don't," Kevin answered. He licked his lips, gazing at Beth. She hated the way his eyes roved over her body, seeming to peel off her sweaty jeans and T-shirt with his dark eyes. She shivered, digusted. "Go on up now." He pointed with his bottle to the ladder. Beth and Michonne shared a look.

"I've got your back," Michonne said, nodding reassuringly. With shaking hands, one bleeding slightly, Beth grasped the rope rungs and pulled herself up. They were easily twenty feet into the air, and her head spun, stomach churning, as she glanced down. She gracelessly clambered the rest of the way up, until she was kneeling on the floor of the treehouse. It was just one room, where they were, but there were a few men waiting already. Beth kept her eyes anywhere but on them - she didn't want to see the lustful gazes of them, hear their dirty chuckles and dirtier hands. Instead, she noted that there were two exits to the room. Soon, Michonne was beside her, crouched like a feral cat. She still seemed dangerous without the sword.

It smelled like smoke and stale alcohol. The floor was firm beneath her. It was warm, but not as stifling hot as it was in the sunshine. The men were talking - Beth tried not to hear, focusing instead on keeping her breathing even.

"Got two pretty lil thangs," Travis said. "What should we do with them, fellas?" There was a round of laughter from all the men. Surely there had to be women somewhere - a sick feeling rose within Beth when she realized that they could be prisoners, too, just like she and Michonne. Instead of dwelling on that, she sent a silent prayer. If there was still a God, he had to hear the few humans left out there that were calling to him.

_Please, dear Lord,_ she thought, praying harder than her heart had ever done before, _please save us. Please send Daryl to save us_.

"Just breathe deep," a voice said, cutting through her haphazard, desperate plea to God. A rag was thrust in her face, and she inhaled to cry out... But the edges of her vision blurred as the funny smelling rag gagged her, clogging her senses, until the world went dark.

* * *

"Pedophile," Maggie said. She glared from the backseat of the Hyundai at Daryl, shooting lazers with her eyes. "What kind of a man goes for little girls, huh? Perverts, that's who." She crossed her arms over her chest, huffing angrily.

"Beth's eighteen," Glenn pointed out.

"So? She's still a little girl," Maggie spat. "Only a couple years ago she was playin' with Barbie Dolls and singin' Spice Girls in the mirror... What were you doin' a few years ago, Dixon? Meth?"

Daryl's hands tightened on the steering wheel, but he knew he deserved it. Deserved every word out of the woman's mouth, 'cause she was right. He knew it all along - he was foolin' himself, thinking that it had to be right because it felt so good. That loving Beth couldn't be wrong, because her skin beneath his fingers, her lips upon his own... It was _too_ good. And that was why he was wrong. Why he was bad.

_"You're a Dixon. We got something wrong with us, in the head_._" _Merle's voice was maddeningly loud in his brain. _"That's why you're fuckin' that baby girl. Not that I blame ya, but there's somethin' wrong with me, too. Ain't raised proper."_ Daryl's teeth gnashed together as he ground his jaw, what little bit of grip he had on his sanity slackening. He had to get Beth back, had to see her, had to touch her. If anyone so much as laid a finger on what was his... What he lo - _cared_ about...

"Maggie," Glenn said. He was in the front seat, supposed to be doing look out for anything peculair - like their dead bodies being devoured by walkers - but he turned to his wife. "You need to shut your mouth. You ain't helping anything, and Beth is big enough to make her own decisions. Daryl didn't rape her, he didn't hurt her. That's not the problem -"

"You're siding with _him_?" Maggie asked, outraged.

"Yeah," Glenn said, exasperated. "Because _Daryl_ isn't on trial. No one is. We're trying to find your sister. Focus on that." Beneath his baseball cap, his brown eyes were stubborn and demanding. Daryl would have said something about the vice grip loosening on the Chinaman's balls - but Maggie was mad enough as it was, and Glenn was stickin' up for him. Daryl wasn't gonna tease him when he was doing him a favor.

"Whatever," she said, slumping back in her seat.

Daryl said a silent thank you to the powers that be.

A few more minutes of silence, moving through the country-side, as the sun began to sink into the horizon, and Glenn pointed. "Is that - is that a horse?"

Maggie flew between the two front seats, hands slamming on the dashboard and eyes squinted for better look. Her green eyes were wide. "That's Michonne's horse."

Daryl felt a fleeting sense of relief - they were on the trail. Had a clue. But if they found the horse, and not the women...

"They were taken," he whispered, rolling slowly to a stop in the middle of the road. "Someone _took her_." Red rage blazed in his head, his pulse thrumming a deafening beat in his ears. For a moment, Daryl wasn't in his body - it wasn't until he felt Glenn's hands on him, wrestling him, that Daryl realized he was punching the dashboard. His knuckles were oozing blood, and throbbed, when he came to.

Maggie eyed him, unsure. If _Daryl Dixon_ was freaking out - she gulped. Things were looking very, very bad.

* * *

"Beth - _Beth_." Her head was throbbing, and her vision was fuzzy. Beth tried to sit up, but the room swam, and she collapsed back onto the floor for a moment. Until she heard her name again, being hissed. Lolling her head to the side, eyes trying hard to focus, she found Michonne beside her. She was sitting up, but she was also manacled to the wall. Beth watched her arms yank at the restraints, before she cussed.

"Whats - going - on?" Beth struggled. Her voice sounded drunk and weak.

"Those bastards," Michonne grit out. "They chloroformed us, chained us up..." She shook her head, dark dreadlocks falling into her fierce face.

"Can we - get out?" Beth asked. She struggled again to sit up, propping herself against the wall. Her arms felt like limp noodles, but her head was clearing slowly. The _wub-wub-wub _ sound was fading.

"Not unless you can jump thirty feet and land on your feet," Michonne replied sarcastically. Beth didn't think this was exactly the place, but then again... Whatever kept her sane.

"Where are they?" Beth asked next. She could hear the distant sounds of conversation and people. They didn't need to be quiet, up in the trees. She supposed they felt a sense of security being so elevated. Kind of like their fences...

"I don't know," Michonne responded. For the first time, her facade broke. She needn't say a word - but Beth could see the defeat in her face. She wasn't giving up all the way, just enough to make Beth fearful again. But she couldn't fall into that again. Daryl needed her - she needed him. Without the other, each would perish. Hadn't he said before, he _wouldn't _and _couldn't_ lose her. He'd come for her. And if he was too late... Beth bit back tears. It wouldn't be a good thing for him to open himself to someone and then lose them just as swiftly.

Gathering her strength, Beth sat up further. She examined the chain that tethered her to the wall, the cuffs on her wrists. They seemed... Weak. They were tight enough to bruise her wrists, but Beth realized that they were cheaply made. Like those 'love cuffs' that they sold at Spencer's, at the mall in Atlanta. And the chain that held her to the wall was like a dog chain, just clipped wires looped together like construction paper garlands at Christmas. Her heart began to beat with excitement.

"Michonne!" she whispered, but the enthusiasm in her voice made the woman's head snap up. "This is junk!" She held up her wrists. The shiny metal glinted in the late sunlight. Beth scrambled her legs around, thanking the men's stupidity that they hadn't cuffed her ankles too.

"Think you can get out?" Michonne asked.

Beth bit her lip and studied the chain and her cuffs. The chain was wrapped and connected to the cuffs. The chain was connected to the wall, wrapped around a supporting piece of wood. "I don't know," Beth admitted. Her excitement was waning. "Let me work on it -"

"Don't bother."

Michonne's and Beth's head snapped to the solitary doorway. Their little room was small, circular, and dirty. Michonne was on the floor, but Beth was on a dirty, stained mattress. There was one window letting in light, but Beth could see bright green leaves too. In the doorway, Kevin was slouching, clutching a beer. He toyed with his lipring and eyed Beth.

"I'm gonna fuck her," he said, pointing at Beth with a wobbly finger. "And you're gonna watch. Hows that sound?"

"I'd rather not," Beth said politely. He chuckled at her, holding his stomach and doubling over.

"Sexy _and_ funny? Might have to keep ya 'round." He killed his beer, tossed the bottle out the window. He stepped into the room, letting the blanket that served as a door drop behind him. Kevin pulled off his shirt, revealing a pale, bony chest that belonged to a boy. Not a man. Not someone who was willing to do what he was.

"Don't you dare touch me," Beth said. She kicked at him, fighting against her restraints as he sidled to the mattress. He was undoing his belt, popping the button of his fly and sliding down his zipper.

"You're a good-lookin' woman," he said. "Bet that guy you're with - that one you were with that night? Bet he's goin' crazy lookin' for ya." Kevin chuckled and brushed his hair off his face. Beth's eyes shot to Michonne, whose face was stony and sad. She was just as restrained as Beth was, there was nothing she could do. After her time with the governor, she knew that words wouldn't do a thing. This might have been a boy, but he was still a man. An evil man, drunk on alcohol and the power he felt he wielded over them. It was a dangerous combination.

"He's gonna kill you," Beth said, cringing as his fingers ran over her ribcage. She tried to twist away from him, but with bruising force he held her down. His dark eyes were bloodshot - he was messed up. Still, he didn't pause as he pulled her shirt over her head, exposing her dirty bra and the small mounds of her chest.

"Please," she whispered. "Please, _please _don't do this!"

"Best be quiet now," Kevin said.

"_Fuck you_." Beth hocked the biggest loogie she could, spat it right in his face. Her belly was on fire with rage, fury burned in her blue eyes. No one would touch her but Daryl Dixon, and this kid was nothing compared to the man that her redneck was. Michonne's eyes shone proudly, though weakly, from the corner of the room. It was good to see some fire in Beth. It was good to see her still fighting.

Kevin wiped the spit off his face, and shook his head. "Shouldn'ta done that," he muttered. His hands were on her throat then, and Beth gasped in shock. "If you can't play nice - you won't play at all."

"Leave her alone!" Michonne shouted. She lunged towards him, but the manacles around her wrists were nothing like Beth's; they knew she was the fighter, the stronger of the two, and locked her up accordingly.

Beth kicked her legs, bucked her hips, trying to jostle him off of her. But he was stronger than she guessed, and he was pressing his weight down on her throat, cutting off her airway. Her cuffed hands tried to pry his free, scratching and drawing blood, but he didn't let up. The world was growing dark again. She fought the darkness, thinking of home at the prison and cherry pie and Judith's giggle and Daryl's face as he came, arching inside of her...

Suddenly, the sound of a car horn blaring cut the tension in the room. Kevin's hands slackened on her throat, stilled, and Beth's eyes met Michonne's. Without a second of hesitation, Beth twisted her body and knocked him off. He'd been surprised, distracted, and the shock of her movement threw him towards Michonne. He landed with a 'thump' and Michonne grinned ferally.

"Told you to leave her alone," she hissed, before bringing her booted foot up as high as she could, and slamming her heel into his skull. His face caved, blood and brains oozing freely. Smiling, the dark woman looked more frightening than Beth had ever seen her. "I think you're redneck is here, princess."

* * *

**hey guys... sorry for the delay, life has been crazy lately and I'm doing the best I can! Only a few chapters left now, this ride is almost over. I'm posting another chapter, as well as a one-shot Lizzie/Carl one-shot. Please review and let me know what you think and how you like it! **


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

"I'm scared." Carl sighed, and pulled Lizzie into his arms. They were sitting in his cell, reading his comic books - _pretending_ to, anyway. There was too much going on for them to be able to focus, and Carl was anxious. There was hot lead in his belly, making his stomach turn and bubble. He didn't like this. Michonne was one of the people he looked up to, and Beth was like a makeshift mother to his sister - and _him_. But they were gone, and from the sounds of things... It wasn't good.

He had been dumb to think that the only thing they had to fear were the walking dead. No, it turned out that people were just as dangerous as the zombies that lumbered around their home. Carl didn't know that the world was such a bad place. His father was a policeman - growing up, he was protected, untouchable. Rick was the strongest man in the world, and he would always keep him safe. But that was before the end of the world, before all of this madness. Now, it seemed like when things settled down, when they were beginning to fall into another comfortable routine... Something else popped up. They were like track runners, jumping hurdles, only they never ended, never got a chance to rest. It wasn't fair...

"They'll come back," Carl said, his voice low. Lizzie pressed her face into his neck, and he hoped she couldn't feel the heat that spread from there up into his cheeks. He might be worried, but he also _liked_ Lizzie. Having her so close - even if the walls were burning and crumbling down around them - wouldn't have stopped his body from reacting. "Michonne is the strongest person I know. She always comes back."

"But what about Beth?" Lizzie asked. "She's not like the rest of them. She's not strong."

Carl hugged Lizzie tighter, wrapping both arms around her as tightly and comfortingly as he could. He wanted to make her feel better. He wanted to reassure her, wanted to tell her that Beth was as strong as the rest of them - but he knew it wasn't true. She was strong, emotionally, and she was strong as a woman... But as a fighter, as a survivor, she depended on the rest of them. They kept her safe, and she kept them comfortable. She kept the homestead.

"This is all my fault," Lizzie said. She sniffled, and Carl felt hot tears against his throat. "If I hadn't forced them together - if they never would have -"

"You can't think like that!" Carl cried. He pulled her back, gazing into her big amber eyes. They were shiny with tears. "If you do that... Well, its my dad's fault that my Mom died. He got her pregnant, right? And she died giving birth to Judith. So my dad _and_ Judith killed my mom."

"That's not true," Lizzie protested. She shook her head fiercly.

"Well, stop thinkin' like that then." Carl frowned at her, and she begrudgingly agreed. Her little shoulders shrugged, and she sank back against him, discarding the copy of _Invincible_ she'd tried to read. Instead, she took comfort in his lanky arms wrapping around her, and though Carl would never admit it... He felt a lot better to be holding her, too.

* * *

Daryl parked the car, and they all climbed out. Maggie was off her tirade, refocused on their mission. Glenn sidled to the horse, stroking it's neck. He checked the saddle-bag that hung on one side, raised an eyebrow. Hopefully, it hadn't run too far from where it lost it's riders. The brown mare toed the ground and huffed. Daryl sighed.

"No way would Michonne leave her horse _willingly_," Glenn said, and he shared a dark look with Daryl. They both avoided the question in Maggie's eyes, knowing that answering would be worse than letting it go on. Instead, Daryl's gaze went to the ground. There weren't any foot prints, just hooves, and he paced back a length. He recognized the area - they always passed by here when they went on runs. It was only an hour or so from the prison, and whenever they went north, they had to pass here.

His heart stopped when he made out boot prints. A lot.

"Got somethin'!" he called, and the two sprinted over. Daryl crouched down, tracing the boot-print with his dirty finger. It was small, narrow - _Beth_. Standing up, his gaze grew frantic. He darted over to the tall grass and cursed. There were tire marks - looked like a big truck. He froze, a whooshing noise whirring through his ears.

"Shit," he mumbled, dragging a hand through his greasy brown hair.

"What is it?" Maggie asked, desperation making her voice rough.

"When we went on that last run, me 'n Beth ran into men," Daryl said slowly. Glenn knew - he'd been there when Daryl recounted the events to Rick, Tyreese, Hershel and Carol. They were all on the council, they all needed to know. Obviously, Glenn kept the story to himself, not wanting to worry his woman more. Daryl could understand that. "Drove a big truck... Tires match, I'd say."

"What are we waiting for?" Maggie screeched, loud enough to perk up the ear of a wandering walker that was far off in the tall grass. It lumbered towards the noise, and Glenn rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Why aren't we moving?"

"They got a camp," Daryl said. "We don't know what they got there - how many folks, how many guns. We don't know what we're up against -"

"What the fuck!" Maggie cried, slapping her hands hard on his chest. "Dixon, if you love my sister - if you care about Beth -"

Daryl never would hit a woman, but he grabbed Maggie roughly by the neck of her Kevlar suit. "Beth is _all_ I'm thinkin' about, lady. But I ain't gunnin' in there without a plan. I ain't gonna risk her life trying to save it."

She studied him, jaw dropped in shock at his man-handling of her, but had to admit that he was right. Wouldn't do Beth or Michonne any good to burst in with no plan. Maggie nodded, backing off. Glenn had watched the two uneasily, but felt the tension break considerably as his wife stepped down. He was glad - those two fighting _now_ was the last thing anyone needed.

"We ain't gon' drive up there," Daryl started, thinking aloud. He drew his crossbow forward, feeling better with it in his hands, ready to go. Maggie and Glenn seemed to catch his drift, and pulled out their guns as well. "Go on foot. Get there fast, but go in slow. See what their set up is."

"Wish Rick and Tyreese were here," Glenn said. "Could use all the help."

"Well, they ain't. It's on us," Daryl said. Really, he was thinking that it was on _him_. Beth was his girl, his responsibility. The idea that something could be happening to her now - that someone was hurting her, or she was dead, or being eaten by a walker - a mad edge sharpened his thinking, and he lead the way into the tall grass. He was in hunter mode, desperate to the point of insanity, but doing his best to keep it all together. He could beat himself up when Beth was home safe. When she was in his hands, and he could feel her pulse and heartbeat against his body.

It took them the better part of an hour, and they reached a clearing. The truck was parked there, spotless. There were no signs of people, or camps - no lingering scent of smoke. No walkers.

"Look," Glenn whispered, pointing up. Daryl grimaced at the treehouses. They were smart, doing that. He cursed their intelligence.

"How do we get up there?" Maggie asked.

Daryl's eyes were everywhere - he spotted a smear of red on the bark and leaves of a tree. It was the shape of a _D_.

"Son of a bitch," he whispered, stepping over to trace it. Smart girl. _His_ smart girl. Left him a trail. Daryl was going to worship her, make love to her until she cried uncle. He was going to do everything he could to show his appreciation for her intelligence, as soon as he had her back.

"Need a distraction," he mumbled.

"Well, we've seen a few walkers around here," Maggie said. "Think honking that horn would draw them in? Give us time to get up there?"

"Yeah," Glenn nodded. He smiled adoringly at his wife.

Daryl took a deep breath, nodded. It was better than what he'd come up with, which wasn't anything. What better time than the present? With determination, he stomped to the lifted Chevy - which, in normal circumstances, he would have admired - climbed up to the driver's seat, and laid on the horn.

_If this don't get their attention... Nothin' will_.

* * *

With the dead boy between them - _really_ dead, because Michonne had bashed in his skull - and the horn blaring, Beth's heart set off in a panic. She yanked as hard as she could against the chain, the rusty metal biting into her palms and cutting her as she pulled. Beth pressed both booted feet against the wall, using her weight and the strength of her legs as leverage. With a a grunt, she toppled over.

On her back, she blinked up at Michonne in surprised. "I didn't expect that to work," she admitted.

Michonne's face curved into a malicious smile. "Think he's got keys on him?"

Rolling onto her knees, Beth frantically dug into the kids pockets. His pants were bunched up at his knees, and she avoided looking at his crotch. She wished he'd left his boxers on, so she wouldn't have to see _that_. In the left front pocket, her dirty fingers felt metal. Triumphantly, she produced the little ring. There were three keys on it - one was for a vehicle, and the other two were small and simple.

Beth tried the gold one first, and groaned with delight when Michonne's hand came free. She got the other loose, then handed the other woman the keys. Her's were easier to open, and her wrists throbbed as the blood rushed to them.

"We don't have weapons," Michonne pointed out.

"We don't have a choice," Beth reminded her. Carefully, the two stood and Michonne peeked through the window. Rope ladders were unrolled, and people were scurrying down them like rats. No one was paying attention to the two of them - assuming, of course, that Kevin had them taken care of. They were lucky that he was drunk, and weak. Beth didn't feel an ounce of guilt for his death.

"Let's go," Michonne breathed, and slipped through the doorway. Beth followed, her pulse pounding. Her blonde hair was a tangled mess, and her shirt was still pushed up - she adjusted it absently as they crossed the catwalk. There was noise all around, and down below, Beth heard the groans and howls of the dead. She didn't see any of their people, and was afraid that the car horn thing had been an accident. In that case, she and Michonne would have to rely on each other to make it out alive - without weapons, it felt like a very long shot. It was almost dark now.

"I'll go first," Michonne said, sliding down the rope. "But follow right behind."

Beth did as she was told, clinging to the rough material. It burned the cuts in her palms, but she ignored the pain. It wasn't hard to, when there was so much else going on. Travis, the balding creep that had captured them, was firing shots at the walkers that were ambling towards the group. Another man, tall and gray-haired, cried out as teeth sank into his neck, tearing tendons and veins. The walker reared back, sticky strings of blood and gore dragging from its mouth.

"Come on," Michonne said, grabbing her raw wrist. The two moved in tandem, dodging and kicking through the herd of walkers that were upon them.

"Beth!"

At the sound of her voice, Beth whipped around. Maggie was standing in the back of the pick-up, wearing the black Kevlar chest-piece. She was grinning widely, her hair a mess but her face glowing with cheer.

"Thank God," Michonne grumbled. Her dreads swung as she twirled out of the grip of another walker, and Beth started towards her sister when she felt strong hands sieze her body.

"You ain't goin' nowhere," hissed a dark voice. Something sharp pressed against her neck, stinging, and she felt the scream leave her before she heard it. "We caught ya, fair an' square. Ya -"

"Take your hands off a'her." Daryl was in her line of vision, and her heart filled with a million emotions - love, relief, fear, anxiety. The knife pressed harder into her neck as Daryl's eyes met her's, piercing down the length of his deadly Horton. The chaos around them seemed to slow down, just like in the movies. Out of her peripheral, she saw a man jam his knife up through a walker's chin; saw Michonne reach the truck bed, watched Maggie toss the katana at her; Glenn fired his gun, a walker's head exploded in a bloody splatter. But Daryl in front of her and the man behind her were deadly still.

"Don't shoot, or I'll slit her sweet little throat," the man threatened.

"Daryl -" she whimpered.

There was a strangled gasp behind her, then a strange gurgle. The knife dropped, and Beth's knees gave out. She fell forward, clutching the slice at her throat. Behind her, Michonne stood, poised with her katana in both hands. The man that had been holding her was decapitated.

Instantly, Daryl was scooping her up, pulling her to her feet. "C'mon, girl," he said, half-dragging her to the big truck. Maggie had climbed through the back window, was seated behind the wheel, gunning the engine to life. They climbed in, leaving the men to the walkers that surrounded their camp. Once the doors were shut, Maggie peeled out, throwing them in reverse. Once she bypassed the trees, she whipped around so they were driving forward, headed back to the Hyundai.

The group was silent as they caught their breath. Beth's heart was still slamming in her chest as Daryl handled her carefully, examining her throat. He swore and pulled off her shirt, wrapping it around her neck. Beth was so dazed, she didn't even feel embarrassed sitting there in her bra. Her body was dirty, streaked from where Kevin's filthy hands had grotesquely caressed her.

"What happened?" Glenn asked. Michonne explained that they were coming back, had been accosted - how the men had taken them to their camp and used chloroform to knock them out. Beth couldn't meet Daryl's gaze as she described what Kevin had attempted to do, but felt his grip on her tighten with anxiety.

"I don't think they know about the prison," Michonne said. "They knew we had a camp, but not where..."

"We'll have to take care of them," Daryl said darkly. Beth glanced to him, seeing the hardness in his blue eyes, and lifted a trembling hand to cup his cheek. He pressed his face into her wounded hand, closing his eyes. Her heart ached at the gesture.

"Lets just get home," she whispered. Daryl nodded.

* * *

**The end of the drama! Only a few chapters left. I hope you guys enjoyed. This update as well as the previous chapter is for all of my lovely TUMBLR friends that have been so patient and kind about my slow ass updates. This one is for you guys, I love you so much and your encouragement is what keeps me going! I hope you loved reading it as much as I loved writing it! Let me know :]**


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

When they returned to the prison, Beth was so exhausted that her legs couldn't carry her. Michonne had taken the horse, and they left the truck for their vehicle. Daryl held her in the back seat, wrapping her up in his leather vest so her body wasn't exposed. She sank into his arms, her eyes falling shut. She was safe now - she could be no safer than in Daryl's arms. He carried her inside, took her straight to her room. She didn't know if anyone was around - she'd only stolen a few glimpses of the starry night sky and Daryl's stubble as she faded in and out.

Beth was only half awake as he tended to her wounds, wrapping her throat tightly but not enough to choke her, and her hands felt like they had mittens from all the guaze he'd wrapped around them. She hadn't been able to undo her jeans, but he helped her out of them and her panties, finding her a clean pair of unders and her pajama shorts, and a clean tank-top. She'd never felt him so tenderly, taking such gentle care of her. But she was worried - he hadn't said a word to her since they got into the truck back at treehouses.

He dragged a chair to her bedside, hunched over her, and Beth let herself drift to sleep. Daryl was there. She was safe.

* * *

Daryl heard the uneven gait of Hershel before he saw him. Wasn't looking forward to this, but had to be done. He sat up straighter in the chair, not taking his eyes off Beth's sleeping form. There was a bruise on her cheek, but other than that... She looked peaceful.

Hershel stood in the doorway silently for a moment, before clearing his throat. "Thank you," he said. Daryl shot him a surprised look. "Thank you for bringing her back."

"Uh-huh," Daryl said, nodding. He was unsure - was Hershel going to kick him out? Cuss him out, tell him what a piece of shit he was for taking up with his daughter? No one had bothered them in the hours since they returned. He wasn't sure what was goin' on in the other parts of the prison, but he was sure there was quite a bit being said. He'd carried her inside, unwilling to let go of her. He felt her life in his hands, her pulse and her heartbeat, the heat of her soft skin. Heard her breathing. But he was still in shock, still unbelieving that the danger was over. That she was home, in her bed, safe. He was watching her. Couldn't stop.

"I gotta say, you aren't the first choice I had in mind for Bethy," Hershel said. Daryl quirked an eyebrow. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this... "But this isn't the same world as before. She needs someone like you - someone that can protect her, keep her safe." Hershel crossed the small distance between Daryl and the doorway, put a shaky hand on the other man's shoulder.

Hershel gazed at his sleeping daughter. The spill of dirty blonde hair on her pillowcase, the white bandage at her throat. He felt a lump rise in his throat, and swallowed hard against it. "I don't know what's going on between you - but it's obvious it's not just sex. If it was, you wouldn't still be here. You wouldn't have done what you did today."

"I -"

"I'm not done," Hershel said firmly. "I ain't always liked you, ain't always agreed with ya - definitely wasn't a fan of your brother. But seeing how you treat Bethy, how you take care of her... How you _saved_ her. I -" He took a shuddery breath, and Daryl realized the man was about to cry. He shifted uncomfortably, letting his eyes rest upon Beth again. "Thank you. For bringing her home safe. You take care of her. And yourself." Hershel patted Daryl's shoulder, then turned and lumbered out of the cell. Alone again, Daryl took a deep breath.

He certainly hadn't been expecting that... Shaking his head, he leaned forward and brushed a stray lock from Beth's forehead. If he was ever going to get a father's approval, Daryl supposed that was it. Even if her sister thought he was a pervert, even if Rick didn't approve - Hershel was giving his blessing. Daryl thought he'd been all surprised-out. He thought wrong.

"Daryl," Beth whispered, voice raspy. He leaned forward, smoothing a hand over her forehead. She was warm, but not feverish. He was glad for that. "What are you doing?"

"Huh?" he asked, frowning in confusion.

"Get in here," she demanded, scooting closer to the wall to make room.

"You're hurt," Daryl protested. He didn't want to do a damn thing to chance hurting her further.

"Shut up, redneck," she murmured. "Hold me."

Smirking in spite of himself, Daryl shucked off his boots and slid under the blankets beside his woman. Who was he to argue?

* * *

Lizzie was walking on clouds. The smile on her face was bigger and brighter than the sun, and she bounced around the prison like a slinky. Beth was home, Daryl was home - they were all safe. She didn't know the whole story - she was just a kid, and no one thought it was important to pass on all the dirty details - but she was certain she could get it out of Carl later. She was in such a good mood, she didn't protest when Mika tried to hold her hand on the way to Storytime. Instead, she clenched it and swung it between them, and the younger girl giggled.

"Sissy," Mika laughed, "you are _so_ weird."

"Better watch out, it runs in the family!" Lizzie declared. They turned into the library, where Miss Carol was setting up for Storytime. Carl was sitting at one of the tables, looking bored already, but his lips lifted when he saw her enter. Immediately, Lizzie's palms went sweaty and her smile widened. She let go of Mika's hand and slid into the seat beside him, scooting it even closer.

"You're in a good mood," Carl commented, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Um, _duh_." She twirled the ends of her ponytail between her fingers. "Michonne and Beth are home safe! Almost everyone is getting better from the flu. What's _not_ to be happy about?"

"That's the attitude," Carol said cheerfully, patting her shoulder. Lizzie flushed from the attention. Carl rolled his eyes but was grinning too. Everyone was relieved that their group had escaped another attempt to keep them down, another roadblock. But as Carol addressed the small class, her voice was no longer happy. Instead, her steely gray eyes took on a somber look. Carl straightened up - Carol only got serious when she talked about important things, _grown up_ things.

Things that he sometimes thought she shouldn't be telling the class...

"As you guys know," Carol started. Lizzie reached for Carl's hand beneath the table, and he let her hold it - no one could see. "We almost lost two members of our group yesterday. It was because of arrogance and stupidity - two things that will certainly get you killed. Michonne and Beth were very irresponsible to go out on their own. Who knows why?"

Mika raised her hand. "Because we use the buddy system, and we always tell someone where we're going."

Carl shared a look with Lizzie, both of them guilty. There were many times that they had slipped to their secret spot without telling anyone. But that was different, they weren't leaving the grounds, the safety of their fenced in world.

"Exactly. What else got them into trouble?" Carol asked.

"Trusting outsiders," a boy replied. "We can't trust anyone outside of this group. We don't know what they want."

Carol nodded. "It's the truth. As nice as someone can seem, they can't be trusted. No one has our backs but each other. That's why the prison is run the way it is, and thats why it works. We take care of each other, and we protect each other. That's why," Carol said, sauntering over to the box that set upon one of the low bookshelves. Lizzie hadn't even noticed it. "We're going to learn how to shoot guns. Not today," she added, tamping the excited buzz that started in the room. "Today, we're just going to learn how guns work..."

Lizzie clutched Carl's hand. She didn't want to tell him, but she was afraid. The last time that she handled a gun... She closed her eyes, started counting backwards from one-hundred. She didn't want to think about the last time she shot a gun.

"Are you ok?" Carl whispered, and Lizzie nodded quickly.

"Fine," she said, smiling. Unfortunately, Carl knew her too well, and the smile didn't reach her eyes. Something was up... He'd figure it out, sooner or later.

* * *

When Beth woke, her whole body hurt. She groaned, trying to turn over, but there was something heavy and warm on top of her. Immediately, her body went into panic mode. She screamed, loud and piercing, until the person on top of her moved. Daryl was up in a flash, hovering over her, hands flailing, unsure what to do.

"Oh my God," she breathed, sagging with relief. "I'm sorry - I just forgot -"

"Its ok," Daryl said. Carefully, he cupped her cheeks, brushed her hair from her face. She smiled at him weakly. "How ya feelin'?"

"Sore," she mumbled, turning her face to kiss his palm. He gave her a sad smile.

"I'll get you some painkillers," Daryl grumbled. "Be right back." He gave her a fleeting look before turning and hurrying off. Alone, Beth pushed herself up until she was sitting upright. Her neck and palms were throbbing from the cuts, and her head was thumping too. Beth carefully rolled her head, gasping at the pain of her throat. Her shoulders were tight and tense too - before she could experimentally roll them, Daryl was back with a bottle of water and two little pills for her.

"Thanks," Beth said. She swallowed them, gulped the water, and handed it back to Daryl. "Thanks for saving me, for taking care of me - I don't know what we would have done -"

"Sh," Daryl said. He pulled her gently into his arms, and her head tucked under his chin perfectly. It felt so good to hold her, feel her soft skin and smell her sweet scent. "Don't thank me. I'm just glad to have you back."

"It was stupid - but I wanted to prove that I was a woman," Beth admitted shamefully. "I wanted to prove that I could go out on my own and nothing bad would happen. Guess that was pretty stupid, huh?"

Daryl sighed against her hair. "It was damn stupid," he agreed.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. He could feel the hot tears wetting his shirt, but didn't think a thing of it. Where he normally felt awkward holding a woman, comforting a woman while she cried, it felt perfectly natural to have Beth there in his embrace. He rubbed her back, letting her get all the grief out. She'd been through a lot, and he knew that a girl like her - someone sweet and sensitive as Beth was - needed this. Hell, Daryl thought he might've ended up better if someone would have done that for him.

Pulling back, Beth gazed at him tearfully, gave him a watery smile. "I was never so glad to see you in my whole life," she drawled. Before he could reply, Beth was arching up and pressing her lips against his. Daryl used every ounce of strength he posessed to keep it chaste. She had been through a shock, been through some trauma, and he wasn't going to take the chance of hurting her or having her freak out again. It was too soon. She was too delicate.

He pulled back first. She sighed, and her eyes were drooping shut again. "Those were strong," he told her. "Ya should lay down 'n git some rest."

"Will you stay?" she asked, baby-blues pleading.

"'Course," he said gruffly. How could he ever leave her again?

* * *

**Thought this story was coming to an end. Now, I'm not so sure... We shall see! Please let me know what you think :] Sorry these updates are coming so slowly, finding time and internet has been hard for me. But I'm trying! Find me over on TUMBLR at IDREAMOFFRANKIE - updates on stories, pretty pictures, gifs. Haha. Love you guys, thank you fro sticking around and supporting me!**


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

In the week that passed, Beth grew stronger and better. The cut at her throat healed nicely, leaving only a silvery line to show her struggle. Her hands were much better, those scars fading into the lines that were already there. She started to take Judith during the day, though Rick kept her in the evenings. Beth's nights weren't solitary, however. Daryl only left her side when he had guard duty, but he was beginning to drag her along for that too. He didn't want her out of his sight, and Beth was reluctant to leave him too. She was still shaken up, but the nightmares eased the more time that passed. Michonne, if she was suffering any after effects, was cool and collected as ever. She'd even left the prison with Rick and Tyreese to do some recon.

Beth never wanted to leave the prison again. While she had wanted to be brave, it was all headstrong rebellion. She hadn't been thinking straight. All she was focused on was proving to the camp that she was strong enough to be trusted out on the outside. Instead, she wound up kidnapped and the others had to risk their lives - their much more important, much more needed lives - to save her and Michonne. Beth felt very small, and was thankful to have Daryl to hide behind. He kept her close, always within his eyesight, as though something could just walk up and drag her off in broad daylight, in a crowded room. She wasn't complaining when his hands found her's, when he drew her seat closer to his. Daryl just wanted to feel her close, feel that she was there. Beth was in complete agreeance on this.

The only complaint Beth had was that he hadn't made love to her since before everything happened. He knew that while Kevin had tried, he wasn't successful in his assualt on her, but he was treating her like delicate glass. Every night when he slipped into her bed, curling himself around her protectively, that's _all_ he did. No sliding his hand up to cup and knead her breast, or down her concave belly to the thatch of blonde curls above her womanhood... At first, Beth had felt it was sweet. He was concerned about every aspect of her well-being.

A week later, she was going insane.

That night after dinner, everyone sat around and Beth sang with Maggie helping, and the group chatted and some played cards and the women gossiped. Daryl and Beth climbed the stairs to her room. Daryl pulled the big blue quilt over the front bars, keeping out any prying eyes.

"I think Carl and Lizzie are getting a little _too_ close," Beth was saying, as she slipped out of her T-shirt. She didn't miss the way that Daryl's blue eyes roved over her flesh before quickly cutting away. Beth huffed a sigh and rolled her eyes, then unhooked her bra.

"Yeah, they do seem to be attached at the hip," Daryl said. He smirked in spite of himself, eyes sliding to her naked chest. She watched him take a deep breath, and was glad that he still reacted to her body. Biting her lip, she shimmied out of her jeans and underwear, standing naked before him under the bright overhead light. It was dumb to be nervous, Daryl had seen her nude plenty of times. She'd done her share of seducing him, too. But this felt different.

Stepping over to him, Beth heard him groan, barely loud enough for her to hear. Her fingers slid over the edge of his leather vest, pressing it over his shoulders and slipping it down his arms.

"What're ya doin'?" he asked, voice gruff. He didn't move to stop her.

"Gettin' you ready for bed," Beth said with a crooked smile. She slowly unbuttoned his sleeveless flannel, kissing her way down his chest until he was naked on top. Daryl's eyes were dark and careful as he watched her unfasten his belt, undo his fly. His hands were clenched at his side in white-knuckle fists. Beth wanted him to touch her, wanted to feel his hands stroking down her back and her blonde hair. She ached for him, deep within her core, and she moaned gently when her fingertips brushed his erection through his boxers.

"Beth -"

"Don't," she whispered.

His eyes were torn as Beth fell to her knees in front of him, freeing him of his underwear. She gazed up at him with wide blue eyes as she stroked him softly, feeling his cock harden and length in her hands. She swiped her tongue over him, lovingly, not once losing eye contact with him. When her mouth fully enveloped him, he groaned and hauled her up by her arms. His grip was tight on her.

"Please Daryl," she whimpered. "I need you - so much - I can't go another night without feeling you inside of me." She was unabashed in her lust, in her want. She yearned for him like nothing in her life, and if he turned her down now... She didn't think she could bear it.

But her pleading seemed to work. Instead of arguing, which she expected, Daryl's lips found her's and pressed hard down on her. His tongue forced entry, tangling and sliding with Beth's. She moaned into his mouth, eyes falling shut. She would have been rejoicing but she was too excited, too worked up, to think about that. Instead, she lost herself in the heat that spread from her belly. She was ridiculously wet, more than ready for him.

"If I hurt ya -"

"You won't," Beth promised. "Just make love to me, Daryl. Please."

He seemed to snap in that instant. He was pushing her down on the bed, kneeing her thighs apart. His hands were everywhere - cupping her cheeks, sliding over the new scar on her throat, her collar bones. Covering her breasts, making her arch and gasp as he manipulated her pebbled nipples. His mouth never left her's, never stopped the harsh and powerful kisses that were only working her into further frenzy. She wiggled beneath him, trying to relieve the pressure between her thighs. Daryl groaned against her lips.

"Slow down, sweetheart," he mumbled. Beth sighed, nodded, and relaxed against the bed. His lips burned a trail down her tummy, kissing and licking and nipping. She tangled her hands in his dark hair, enjoying the soft feel under her hands. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he tossed her legs over his shoulders, squeezing her bottom and licking along her slit.

"Fuck!" Beth swore, hips arching of their own accord. Daryl gave her a startled look, quirking an eyebrow.

"You just curse?" he asked, surprised.

"Um. Yes," Beth said, blushing.

"I'm a bad influence," Daryl said, smiling, before delving his tongue between her slick folds. She tasted sweet and musky, and he would never get enough. He sucked her clit between his lips, teasing the bundle of nerves with his tongue. Hearing her swear had turned him on - working his pretty little girl into such a state of abandon, working her up so much that she was swearing? Well, it was pretty fucking hot. He slipped a finger into her tight channel, feeling how wet and ready she was. It only took a few more swipes of his tongue and she was coming undone, squeezing around his finger, yanking on his hair, panting harshly. She knew better to let loose one of her moans - she was too fucking loud. In a perfect world... Where they had privacy... Daryl would tell her to be as loud as she wanted. Wake the fucking dead.

Sitting back on his heels, Beth watched him lick his lips. It reminded her of a cat, licking milk from it's whiskers. It was an insanely erotic sight.

Daryl gazed down at her, his eyes heavily lidded. His pupils were so dilated that there was hardly a rim of blue around them. Beth watched him stroke himself, remembering that time in the shower... She arched her hips up, longing to feel him inside of her. It had been so long, and she wanted nothing more than to feel them connected in the most perfect way.

"Put yer legs up," Daryl said. His voice was soft but firm. Awkwardly, Beth lifted her legs, and Daryl ran his fingers up the backs of her thighs, pushing them forward into her chest. With a hiss, he slid inside of her. The angle was perfect - Beth could feel every inch of him moving inside of her, and gasped. Their blue eyes met, and she tossed her head back. Nothing had ever felt so perfect, felt so amazing. Daryl breathed hard, trying to control himself, but it was impossible. It had been _too_ damn long - of course Beth always knew what was right, seducing him like the little fiend he had turned her into. She was making quiet, lusty noises beneath him, urging him on. Daryl snapped his hips against her, growling at the desire written all over her face.

"Feels so good," she gasped, arching - or trying to. It was hard with her legs against her chest, but she position felt too good to complain. Daryl leaned forward, kissed her briefly, before finding a rythym that would quickly end him. He would have slowed down, but the tell-tale signs of Beth's orgasm - flushed cheeks, heaving chest, the trembling in her legs that had nothing to do with the new position - kept him going. Her fingernails dug into his arms, his neck, and she pulled his face to her's for a kiss. She nipped his lip and made him growl, made him slam into her harder than before. No longer worried about hurting her - he knew he was giving her all the pleasure he could.

"Oh God," she moaned quietly. "Oh Daryl - Daryl -" She was coming, her body spasming and her eyelids fluttering like tiny butterfly wings. He smirked, loving the way his name rolled off her tongue, and that _he_ was the one giving this to her. Taking from her too, because it felt damn good to be inside of her and the push-pull tension that made his toes curl. He was fucking her hard, fucking her like it was the last time. It could be - _fuck that_. With a few last thrusts, he was orgasming too, grunting her name against her breasts. Her hands feathered over his back and arms, soothing and comforting him.

She groaned when he slipped out of her, but Daryl didn't go far. He collapsed on top of her, and Beth wrapped her arms around him tightly, holding him against her. Their breathing relaxed, slowing together, and she sighed. Daryl stood briefly to flip off the lights, then pulled the blankets up over them. He spooned against her, one hand cupping her breast and the other under her head. She was almost asleep, when she heard him sigh.

"Love you, Beth."

* * *

It was hot outside, the sun beating down, but Carl was glad to be out in the yard with the rest of the Storytime gang. It made it better that Beth was there beside him and Lizzie, looking distracted. But they were practicing with the guns today, and Carl knew that Beth needed the help. Maybe it would help, in case something like that happened to her again. Couldn't hurt, he figured. Plus, he wanted her to be strong and ready. Just like he wanted Lizzie to be that way.

Also, when she held the little .22 up, arms tense but elbow relax for the recoil, brows furrowed with focus... Lizzie looked _hot_. Carl had only really felt that way about a few select models on a bikini calendar his dad had hidden in the garage, but when Lizzie aimed her gun, lining up with the glass bottle target in the distance... Carl's hands got sweaty and his body felt a weird tingle. It was pleasant, but strange.

"Nice one," Rick said, standing behind Beth. She was doing a good job - taking it seriously. With Rick and Carol overseeing the kids and Beth - and of course, Daryl wasn't too far off, seemingly inable to leave Beth for more than five seconds - everyone was on their best behavior. It wasn't often they had 'field trips' in Storytime. Carl wondered if it was annoying for Beth, having Daryl around all the time, but he felt the same way towards Lizzie. The tension he didn't know he had in his body always left when his eyes landed on her. It was _different_.

"You're aimin' too low," Carl said. He holstered his pistol and stood behind her, letting his arms wrap around her. She was pressed back against his chest, and while he was taller than her, it wasn't by much. Her hair smelled sweet as he leaned around her, adjusting her hands on the gun. Her skin was so, _so_ soft under his fingertips, and he wrapped his hands around her wrists, lifting her aim higher. "That's about the height you'll wanna aim. For a headshot."

"Thanks," Lizzie whispered. She was blushing - Carl could see her ears turn red - and he smirked, knowing that he was affecting her. He was becoming a good read when it came to Lizzie Samuels. She was like a book. Her emotions passed easily over her face, she was quick to blush, quick to anger. He liked that about her. Even if the anger part got annoying...

"Go ahead," Carl said, lowly in her ear. "Take your shot." He felt her take a deep breath, and squeezed the trigger. Her shoulders slammed back into his, but he held her steady. The glass bottle shattered in the distance.

"I did it!" Lizzie exclaimed. She spun in his arms, and Carl held onto the gun. She hugged him tight, and surprised them both by pressing a kiss to his lips. "Thanks!"

Carl blushed fifty shades of red, and pushed her away. _Jesus_, his Dad was right there. She was so dumb sometimes... But her beaming smile was brighter than the sun overhead, and Carl couldn't find it in himself to be mean. Instead, he ducked his head and muttered, "Welcome," before handing her back the gun and moving away from her.

Rick's eyes followed him with a proud gleam, and he smiled. Seemed like things really were prospering now...

* * *

**I think there is only one chapter left. I'm not entirely sure if I'm going to let this one go now, or continue it. Kinda seems like the right place to end it and move on to something new. That being said, I've got a little game going! Send me your one-worded prompts, and I will write a Bethyl fic for it. So far, I have about five words and I'm posting the first part of the challenge directly after this! So, if you'd like to play along, find me on TUMBLR at IDREAMOFFRANKIE or shoot me a message on here. It's fun and a good way for me to get over the little bout of writer's block I've been experiencing lately. Plus, who doesn't love fluffy/smutty/plotless drabbles and such? **

**Thank you for reading. Please let me know what you think! I love and adore all that review, even if I don't get around to personally messaging you. You all mean the world to me, and I am never happier than when writing this pairing and reading your reviews :]**


	21. Chapter 21

**All right guys. This is it. The last chapter. This is very bittersweet, it's the first time in a very long time that I've actually FINISHED a story (fanfiction or not) in a while. I'm really quite proud of how it turned out, and I've been floored by the response from everyone. It's very near and dear to my heart, as are each review - even the bad ones. I love everyone that has participated in this, giving me feedback and writing and finding me on TUMBLR ( idreamoffrankie ). You guys are great. I love you.**

**So, without further ado, here is the last chapter to Waste of an Arrow. It's been real guys. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

Carl crept along the balcony of the cell-block, keeping close to the metal bars. He could hear the whispers and giggles around him, and knew that he was close. Boots barely whispering over the concrete floor, he slowly passed by an empty cell. He heard a loud, "_Shhh!"_ and his lips lifted into a grin. The next cell was Beth's, but he knew that she was in the guard tower with Daryl. With a rush of adreniline, he brushed into the cell, pushing the blue quilt out of the way. Lizzie was crouched on the floor with Mika, both girls flushed in the face and giggling.

"Gotcha," he said, and darted forward to tag both of them. But Mika twisted and slipped around him, laughing like mad, tearing back through the blanket and into the open cell block. Carl's hands landed on Lizzie's shoulders, but she was laughing so hard - and so was he - that they fell back on the floor in a tangle of limbs and smiles.

Once they caught their breath, Carl sat up and offered Lizzie a hand to help her up. She took it, cheeks aching from how big her smile was. They were in the middle of a big game of hide and seek, with all the other kids - even Glenn and Maggie were getting in on the fun - and they didn't have time to hang around.

"You're it," Carl said, reluctantly taking his hands off of her. She groaned, but nodded. Quickly, Carl leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, inhaling the sweet smell of her and the soft texture of her skin. "Start counting."

Breathless, Lizzie nodded, and Carl slunk out of the cell. He'd hide somewhere easy, so she could catch _him_. Maybe then she would be giving him the kiss.

* * *

"All right," Daryl said, arms around Beth as they stood on the walk-way around the tower. The sun was high in the late summer sky, and they were surveying the perimeter of the jail. Beth was struggling with the weight of the Horton in her hands, and Daryl was trying not to laugh. Watching her with the weapon was amusing, and arousing. She had her tongue poking out of her mouth, brows furrowed in concentration, and the heavy crossbow was making her arms ache. There was a walker on the fence, down away from where there were folks picking them off. They were still grouping up, but seemed to be thinning in numbers. It was wishful thinking on his part, but he hoped they were all dying. _Again_. For good.

"I think I can get him," Beth murmured. Daryl pushed a lock of blonde from her forehead, tucking it behind her ear, and she smiled at him for a moment before returning her eyes to the walker. It was just a spec in the distance.

"Nah," he said, shaking his head. "Don't need to waste the arrow."

"You saying it's not worth a shot?" Beth challenged. Her eyebrow was raised, and Daryl smiled at her playful attitude. In the weeks that had passed since she and Michonne had been kidnapped, since he was out of his mind with rage and fear, since they returned... The wounds healed up, people stopped their whispering. It was a relief to be like this with Beth now, out in the open. He still didn't like letting her out of his sight, but Daryl knew that it was important to trust her. After what she'd been through, she wasn't going to be running off on her own again. Probably never.

"Just sayin'," Daryl said with a shrug. "You miss, you gotta go and get it ya'self."

"That's never been a problem for me before," Beth said, mock-serious. Daryl realized she wasn't talking about the bolt anymore. With a wry smile, he wrapped his arms tight around her, helped hold up the bow. He lined her up, but she was relaxed in his arms. She wasn't trying - she was letting him do all the work. His finger twisted around her's on the trigger, and together, they took the shot. The walker dropped, and was still in the tall grass.

"Can't do it all on yer own," Daryl whispered against the shell of her ear. He kissed it, then wrapped himself from around her and took back his weapon. She was blushing, blue eyes blazing at him with lust and desire. He'd grown to know the look very well. He smirked.

"You are going to get it," Beth promised. "Soon as our shift is over..."

"Betta watch it, missy," Daryl said. "Don't say things you ain't gon' follow through with." He wouldn't let her free from her word though. While her arousal was completely visible, at least to him, Daryl played it very cool. No one knew that he was walking around with a hard-on twenty four seven, or that his hunger for the blonde was frightening, to him. He'd never loved anything so much in his life, never wanted anyone like he wanted Beth. Loving someone in the end of the world was just as good as putting a curse on them, Daryl believed. He'd loved his brother, and look where that got him.

But he couldn't deny Beth. Couldn't pretend that the burn for her wasn't always in his veins, that feeling her in his arms and under his fingertips wasn't the sweetest torture. For some reason, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. And together... It was stupid and corny to even admit to himself, but they were pretty fucking unstoppable. They'd been through the ringer already, and surely, there would be more to come. But as long as they were together, as long as he could fall asleep with her in his arms, and make love to her whenever they had the chance, Daryl would do his best to do right by her. Whatever she wanted, whatever she needed, Beth would have.

She smiled at him, cocking her head to the side. "We could always go in..." The unspoken implication of her statement had him groaning, and he grabbed her tight. Instantly, she was pressing her lips on his, tongue tracing his lips for entry. She was getting bold now, confident, and he loved the unhesitant way that she was loving him.

Walking her backwards, their duty forgotten for the moment, Daryl pushed her inside and kicked the door shut behind them. If it was good enough for her, it was definitely more than good enough for him.

Beth was on fire. Whenever she was with Daryl like this - it didn't matter the situation, whether it was slow and sweet or fast and hard and dirty - the man simply had to touch her, and she was butter. Moaning softly as he sucked on her earlobe, Beth felt his hands slide over her body. He knew her better than anyone, knew every freckle and dimple and pore on her damn body. Daryl was the only man she'd ever been with, and Lord willing, the only man she ever _would_ be with. Every day was not promised, and Beth knew that better than anyone. She'd only been captive for a short while, but it had lingering effects.

Sometimes, when she woke up in the middle of the night, she'd forget where she was. Sometimes, when Daryl was gone and she was alone in her bed, she could see Kevin's dead eyes popping out of his skull, his brains leaking onto the dirty floor. Sometimes, she could still get a whiff of that chloroform that had knocked her out, and her stomach would tense and churn.

But moments like this made them all go away.

"Gotta be quick," Daryl said, his mouth on her neck. He bit her, not enough to tear the skin, but enough to make Beth's eyes roll back in her head. She pushed her hips against him, making him growl, and the sound only made her hotter. She was panting from their kisses, from his fingers manipulating her breasts. One had was kneading her bottom, and she inwardly grinned. His fascination and obsession with her ass was silly to her, but then again... She had a Dixon-sized bite mark on one cheek, and the idea made her even more aroused.

She unbuckled her belt and made quick work of her fly. Daryl was too distracted to undress himself, focused instead on touching every inch of her. His hand was inside of her panties, deftly finding her clit and rolling it between his fingers. Beth gasped at the sensation, keening lowly at the pleasure that shot through her body. Her hands found the edge of the table behind her, and she braced herself. Their eyes met, blue smoldering against blue, and Daryl smirked when he slipped a finger inside of her.

He was about to say something smart, Beth could sense it. She leaned up to kiss him, effectively cutting off whatever thought he was about to say. He seemed to remember the urgency when she did that; his hands left her body to divest his own clothing, and then he was nudging her up on the table.

"Spread 'em," he demanded. Beth did the best she could with her pants hooked around her ankles. She hadn't taken off her boots. Daryl licked his lips at the site of her, and for a moment she thought he was going to lean down and lick her - not that she would complain. But in that instant, her core ached for him. It'd only been a few hours since they'd made love, in bed... But she wanted him again. She would never have her fill of her redneck.

Instead of kissing her most private parts, he tore her panties off. Beth gasped, then groaned - the animalistic action was erotic. He wanted her just as badly as she wanted him. His erection was leaking, and she gazed at it, licking her own mouth this time. But then he was grabbing her hips, positioning himself. In one swift thrust, he was inside of her. They both moaned at the sensation.

Daryl didn't pause. He pulled out, then thrust up again, and Beth felt her eyelids drop shut. It was too fucking good, too sweet and maddening to do much more than hang on for the ride. He grunted against her, face in her neck, and Beth wrapped her arms around his neck, fisting her hands in his dirty brown hair. Nothing would ever be so perfect, so delicious, as these moments. She was moaning out now too, so close to the edge that she could almost taste the impending orgasm. Daryl held her thighs apart with one hand, and the rubbed the bundle of nerves that never failed to make her scream.

"Come, darlin," Daryl whispered. When his voice was soft and the drawl was in full effect, Beth could do nothing but obey. With her head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, her body tensed then shuddered. The pleasure that washed over her was so good, and her nails dug into him as she tried not to scream. Instead, she chanted his name over and over, like a prayer. A few more thrusts and he was coming too, making noises that did nothing to calm her down. Instead, they made the after effects linger, the pleasure shoot through her again, but softly. She whimpered.

After they both came down, their breathing evening, flush receding from their faces, Beth glared at him. "You ruined my panties."

"I'll find you some new," Daryl chuckled, not in the least bit sorry. His seed was leaking from between her thighs, and damned if it didn't make him horny all over again. Shaking his head, he hauled her jeans up ther thighs and sighed. _Later_. He'd make her pay for seducing him out of their duty - God, anything could have happened down there. Walkers could have invaded the fence, knocked it down, been feastin' on their people and Daryl wouldn't have known. It was the dangerous part of being so in love with Beth. When they were alone together, when they were fucking and making love and so wrapped up in each other - nothing else existed.

"Better," Beth quipped. "Maybe I'll have to rip up your vest next time."

"You wouldn't dare -"

"No," she agreed, smiling softly. "It's too sexy." The bewildered look he gave her was enough to make her laugh out right. Sometimes, he was so oblivious to the way he looked, the persona he put out to the world. He was the sexiest man alive, in her eyes. Grabbing the collar of his vest, she pulled him down for a sweet, slow kiss.

"Love ya," Daryl said, when they broke apart. Hearing those words from him was enough to make her blush.

"I love _you_," she responded. It would never get old. It would never lose it's meaning. It was the end of the world, and loving someone now was a blessing and a curse. But Beth couldn't have stopped it if she tried. Even if she wanted to.

* * *

Carl was waiting in their secret spot. The sun was setting, and it was a beautiful sight. Up in the watch tower, Beth and Daryl were smiling at each other. Maggie and Glenn weren't the only ones in love, now. People were upset at first, but they got used to it. The only people who even _cared_ were the ones from their original group, that had been there since the beginning, or at least since the farm house. His dad didn't like it, not at first - but Rick was accepting.

Seemed like everyone was accepting once they saw how the two were together. Wasn't dirty, wasn't bad - Daryl was sweet to her, protective. Beth glowed under his attention. Part of Carl would always love Beth a little more than the other women of the group, but it wasn't like that anymore. He didn't have a crush on her, wasn't a stupid kid anymore. He was almost a man, had lived more than a lot of the men that had died and become walkers. Carl was tough. He could take care of his family and the people at the prison. When Judith was big enough, he'd teach her everything he knew.

"Sorry," Lizzie said, startling him from his thoughts. "Mika was being a brat."

"'S ok," Carl said with a shrug. They dangled their legs over the edge, silently watching the sun sink into the horizon. They didn't have to talk all the time, anymore. Used to be, he couldn't get Lizzie to shut up. But these peaceful moments together were a lot better. Carl reached for her hand, and she placed it in his, lacing their fingers. She squeezed.

"My birthday is coming up," Lizzie said after a while. "I think."

"When is it?" Carl asked. He hadn't thought of birthdays, or holidays of any kind, in a long time.

"September. I'll be fourteen." She smiled at him. "Same as you."

"I'm still older," Carl said, shaking his head.

"Not by much," Lizzie replied. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and sighed. "A year ago, when I turned thirteen, I didn't realize that I would be here. I never knew I would be at the prison - I mean, the walkers had already happened, but Dad made sure that we did something for my birthday. Got me these earrings," she added, and Carl smiled.

"That's nice," he said.

"But I'd rather have a knife or a gun now, ya know? Crazy how that works." Lizzie giggled and scooted closer, snuggling up to him. This was all still so new to Carl, to Lizzie, but it felt absolutely natural to him at the same time. They might have been too young to be doing what Daryl and Beth were doing, but at the same time... There was a pull between them. Carl knew that Lizzie and him, they belonged to each other. Same as his dad belonged to his mother, and Maggie to Glenn. People were made in pairs, and everyone belonged to someone else. It was weird, and special, that two people ever found each other in the whole wide world. Their perfect fit. But it did happen - and it had.

So what if they were too young? At least Lizzie and Carl would have each other to grow old with. _Older_, at least. In the whole wide world, they had found each other. Even after the end of the world, after the apocolypse. When the dead rose from the ground and began to eat the living, Carl had survived. Survived so that he could protect his family, protect the prison, protect _LIzzie_.

Everyone in the prison has a job. Carl was completely certain what _his_ was.

"It's getting late," Lizzie said, pulling back from him. The sky was glowing with a million stars. The moon was big and bright, and full.

"Just a little longer," Carl said, squeezing her hand. Lizzie smiled softly, nodded. With her head resting at the crook of her neck, Carl knew he would remember this moment forever. Everything, in this moment, was completely right, completely perfect. Didn't get many times like this anymore, and Carl was determined to make it last as long as possible. Him and his girl, under a million twinkling stars.

Unbidden, a thought flurried through his head. _Good things must all come to an end_...

Shaking it from his head, he kissed Lizzie on top of the head and returned to his stargazing.

**FIN!**


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